


serving two masters

by desastrista



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Aimeric Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Discussions of slavery, Multi, Murder Mystery, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, discussions of pedophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-19 05:17:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8191621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desastrista/pseuds/desastrista
Summary: The war has been won and now it’s time to unite two rival kingdoms. A poisoning attempt threatens to unravel everything. Nikandros must discover the would-be murderer, secure the throne for his new Kings, all while dealing with two uniquely Veretian problems of his own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In before the post-war politics of this are totally jossed by the Summer Palace! 
> 
> After I wrote some Nikandros/Jord fic I fell in love with the ship, but faced a problem because I also really love Aimeric. The solution? Write some Aimeric/Jord/Nikandros, obviously! Somehow I decided that this would be best done by layering it on top of a(n attempted) murder mystery, a decision that, as this ballooned in scale, I really regret now.

It started with a whispered warning in his ear at the great hall. 

“I have reason to believe,” Jord’s voice was quiet but insistent, “That your next dish has been poisoned.” 

Nikandros kept his eyes trained forward. The assembled guests were loud and boisterous. It was supposed to be a celebration, after all. He thought of the guests sitting at the great table with him. 

Other possible victims. 

Possible poisoners. 

“Have you tested the food?” he muttered, under his breath. Jord shook his head. Nikandros continued, “Bring out no more dishes. Collect the dishes from the other guests if you can. Alert my physician. But otherwise, continue as normal. I will be down in the kitchens soon to see this matter myself.” 

Jord nodded, and walked away from the table. 

Nikandros’s gaze never wandered from the revelers before him. But all he could think was: this was Damen and Laurent’s new kingdom. 

 

****** 

 

But no, that was not really where the story began for Nikandros. 

It began with a sunrise. 

On the last day before he was to leave Ios, Nikandros watched the sun rise. It was so early that even the birds had not yet woken. His household was still asleep in their beds. The world seemed to be utterly quiet. Nikandros knew he should be sleeping too. But ever since the negotiations had begun, his sleep had been troubled. 

Before the war, Nikandros had always known his place in the world. He was the kyros of Delpha: he was the shield in the north that guarded Akielos. He negotiated with Patran merchants for safe passage; he protected his people from Vaskian raiders; he was the first line that would hold against any aggression from the Veretian borderlords. 

Now the war had been won and three days of talks at the Kings Council had turned all that upside down. 

Delpha was no longer on the far north of the kingdom. It was instead right in the middle. The Veretian borderlords were not his enemies. They were now his countrymen. That was the vision for the unified kingdom that Damen and Laurent had proposed. 

Nikandros watched the sky turn a magnificent red as the first sliver of the sun made its way over the horizon. Both kings were newly throned after civil war; their rule had to be consolidated. Two enemy kingdoms needed to be brought together. And of course, as if those two feats alone were not impressive enough, Damen said that the new kingdom must end its traditional practice of slavery. 

Nikandros got ready for the last day of negotiations and tried not to dwell on just how impossible the plan laid out by his King seemed. 

 

***** 

 

The table and the room that the Council used was too large. There were only six of them: two kings with two advisors each. Yet they huddled around a far larger table and discussed the intricacies of the new kingdom. 

Nikandros was the first to arrive that last morning. Vannes arrived not too long after, and then came Enguerran. Both of Laurent’s advisers gave Nikandros a polite nod as they arrived, but soon they started to complain to each other about the weather in Veretian. Nikandros listened to the conversation in amusement. Vannes was trying to fan herself. Apparently Ios was much too hot for either of them. Normally a slave would be brought in to fan them, but the new Kings had forbidden that. They had no squires that could attend them either, as no squire could be trusted to attend to meetings of such high secrecy. The Veretians, it seemed, would just have to suffer through the heat.

Makedon arrived next. That took Nikandros by surprise: Damen’s other adviser had consistently been the last one to arrive these past few days. He looked as surprised as Nikandros to see that Laurent and Damen had not yet arrived. He turned to Nikandros in confusion, who could only give a small, helpless shrug.

The source of the delay was obvious as soon as the two Kings entered. Or at least, as soon as the two squires walking before them entered the room. They held between them a large map of the continent. Laurent and Damen walked behind the squires with their arms linked. Laurent was wearing a small, pleasant smile. Nikandros felt his back straighten almost reflexively. Something was afoot. 

“As you are aware, this is the last day of the council meeting,” Laurent began, as soon as the squires had placed the map on the table and excused themselves with a bow. He surveyed all the councillors quickly. “That means it is the day that we finalize the question of territories.” 

Nikandros arched his brows. “I believe that I was promised Ios.” 

“Ios is a great palace and has been one of the most important seats of power in Akielos for generations,” said Damen. It should have been reassuring platitudes. But Nikandros knew that voice. His eyes narrowed. It was a tone of voice Damen used when he knew that Nikandros was not going to like what he had to say. 

“But,” Damen continued, “power will not rest in the south of Akielos anymore. It will not rest in the north of Vere anymore. Instead, under our reign, we will begin the construction of a new Palace – at Marlas.” 

That set the whole council muttering. 

“What will happen to Arles?” asked Enguerran. 

“The borderlords were the ones most loyal to your uncle, my King,” said Vannes, as she tried to meet Laurent’s gaze. “You will be surrounded by traitors.” 

“Ios is still quite nice,” muttered Makedon. 

Nikandros held his tongue. His eyes were on Laurent and Damen, who had taken their seats at the front of the table. 

Laurent ignored most of the comments, but turned to Makedon. “I do think Ios is quite nice.” Makedon gave a nod of approval. Laurent turned his head towards Nikandros, who gave him an appraising look. Nikandros couldn’t help but note how Laurent wore a thin sheen of sweat, although unlike the other Veretians he did not openly attempt to fan himself. “Given,” Laurent continued, “that my betrothed and I will be in Marlas and intend to make that the new seat of power, Nikandros, do you still desire Ios?” 

Delpha had always been somewhat removed from the day-to-day operations of a kingdom because of its distance from the capital. It would now be one of the closest territories. Even if Nikandros stayed, it would not be the same Delpha he knew. Ios would become what Delpha had once been. 

But that was not quite true. Delpha would still hold territory on the border of Vask and Patras. Ios would not. 

Nikandros adjusted his weight uneasily. 

He had always been the shield for Akielos; now he could be the shield for a new kingdom. 

“I have grown quite familiar with Delpha,” he said. “I will stay there.” 

Damen smiled. It did not reassure Nikandros. “We are to be two kingdoms now,” Damen said. “We should not be so restricted in thinking about the old borders anymore. Nikandros, we would give you something in exchange for taking Marlas.” He gestured at the map. “Lord Touras has been executed as a traitor. Ravenel has no lord now. We plan to split the lands of the former Lord Guion, with half his lands staying to the remaining family that was loyal and the other half going to his son Thevenin, when he comes of age. If you will accept it, Ravenel is yours, Nikandros.” 

Nikandros looked down at the map in contemplation, although he knew the territory well. Ravenel was a well-secured fortress. As kyros, he had dreamt of one day taking it. Damen had given it to him, if only temporarily, when the war began. Now, Nikandros had the chance to hold it permanently. 

“I will take it,” he said. 

“That leaves Ios still available,” Laurent said. “I suppose,” he said, looking at Damen, “that we could keep the Palace and the summer Palace vacant, for when we needed to go south.” 

Makedon drew in a deep breath. 

“I believe, Laurent,” Damen said, with a smile, “That we had discussed how we might reward Makedon.” 

“Ah, but there is also the question of Sicyong,” Laurent said. “That also stands empty.” 

“Tell me, Makedon,” Damen said, turning to the former lieutenant. “Take your prize. Sicyong or Ios?” 

Makedon had been a loyal lieutenant to Nikandros; Nikandros had hoped to keep him in the north. At the same time, Nikandros found himself thinking, Makedon has also independently commanded one of the largest armies in the kingdom – and he was a traditionalist. He had been very displeased by Damen’s talk of ending slavery. 

He was a potentially powerful player in this new kingdom. 

But he could not hope to relocate his army down south. Taking Ios would elevate him to the status of a kyros, but he would lose some real political power. 

Ios was a beautiful Palace, hadn’t Laurent said. 

“I will take Ios,” Makedon said, to no one’s great surprise. “I would not want such a great Palace to fall into disrepair for want of a master to care for it.” 

“Enguerran,” Laurent said, “Sicyong is not far from Marlas. We need a trusted advisor there. Will you take it?” 

Enguerran nodded. 

“Vannes, then you can take Arles. And I believe we have settled the question of territories.” 

And it had been settled, even if Nikandros had some quiet doubts that he kept to himself. The rest of the matters before the Council were discussed in brief. There was the matter of the wedding to be arranged for Damen and Laurent; Marlas was the site selected. Nikandros barely heard the conversation. He kept his eyes trained on the map. Delpha would still be his. He would be returning to her shortly. And she would already be a different territory than the one he knew. 

Nikandros only refocused on the conversation when Laurent and Damen said that it was time to hear petitioners. This would be the last matter before the Council was adjourned and all could return back to their respective territories. 

The first man to arrive identified himself as a keeper of slaves. He bowed deeply before both Kings. “Exalteds,” he said, the new plural sounding unfamiliar on his tongues. “We have heard it said that you would abolish a great Akielon custom –.” 

“Where have you heard this?” Damen cut in, too quickly. 

It had taken close to an entire day to discuss slavery. The Veretians had had little to say; Damen, Nikandros and Makedon had had quite a lot to say. But a tepid agreement had been reached. First, the Veretian custom of keeping pets was to be abolished by decree; all contracts were to be considered bought out. In Akielos, slavery had deeper roots and everyone agreed could not be so easily abolished. First, those most loyal to the King would be encouraged to free their households. (“Encouraged” Damen had said nicely, and Nikandros and Makedon had both repeated the word in a very different tone.) Then the slave trade with Patras and Vask was to be ended. At that point, the market for slaves would have been greatly reduced, and simply outlawing the practice would be enough to extinguish it without provoking revolt from the kyori or others who had invested so heavily in the practice. Damen was not happy with the slow pace, but even he agreed that the expediency of ending the practice had to be balanced with the practicalities of making a kingdom more unstable. 

But for all that, there was something else the process was supposed to be: a secret. 

Rumors always spread faster than Kings would want. 

“You should not listen to the rumors you hear on the street,” Laurent said, his voice slightly more conciliatory, even as there was no missing the coolness of it. “When your Kings have an announcement to make, you will hear it then, and no sooner.” 

The keeper looked only slightly mollified, but Damen motioned for him to leave. 

Next came a pair of faces that looked familiar. It took Nikandros a moment to remember who the woman was, but the man he recognized with a start. It was one of Laurent’s men – Jord. He had been one of the few Veretians to leave Ravenel to journey with his Prince south into Akielos. Nikandros had only known him to be unfailingly loyal to Laurent. Why then was he being brought before the council like this, as a supplicant and not an honored guest? 

Nikandros turned his attention to the Kings. Damen was frowning ever so slightly. Laurent’s mouth was set in a hard, cruel line. 

“Your excellency,” the woman began, as she bowed. Nikandros recognized her as soon as she was announced – the Lady Loyse of Fortaine. “I am here to plead the case of my son, Aimeric.” 

Nikandros vaguely knew the Veretian family in Fortaine to have many children. The heir, Gilen, had already sworn an oath to the new Kings; Nikandros leaned forward, curious as to why this son was of particular interest. 

“Your son took up arms against our cause,” Laurent said in a voice that even Nikandros had come to recognize. It was cold. It was a warning. It was a predator about to strike.

“My lord,” Enguerran began. He looked almost pained. Nikandros’s eyes flickered between the two Veretian councillors and their King. There was sympathy on Enguerran’s and Vannes’s faces, but none at all to be found on Laurent’s. “Perhaps,” Enguerran continued, his voice delicate, “given the circumstances –.” 

“What my uncle did to Aimeric might have happened when he was still a child, but he is not a child anymore. Those who took up arms against the Kings should be put to death. Those who are unwilling to swear fealty to the Kings should be put to death. Treason is a rot that if left to fester will destroy a kingdom.” 

Nikandros looked at Jord as he stood before the Council. Jord was keeping his expression neutral, but as Laurent spoke he winced as if dealt a blow. 

Nikandros met Damen’s eyes with accusation in his own. Damen had given Makedon a conciliatory prize for a reduced political role – fine. Was he also going to stand idly by and let Laurent cast aside one of his most loyal men? 

Is that how loyalty was going to be rewarded in this new kingdom? 

Damen merely gave a helpless shrug in Nikandros’s direction, even as his brow furrowed. He could not understand Nikandros’s stake in the matter. 

“Given what is now known about the Regent and his, er, proclivities – this Aimeric has a powerful testimony,” Enguerran tried again, his voice still tactful. “I believe there should be some punishment, of course, but perhaps – strip him of his title, instead. There were so many revelations about the trial and they will be spreading across Vere soon – across your whole kingdom. It might be seen as an act of cruelty to kill someone in his position. If he were instead to act as a corroborator –.” 

Laurent’s expression softened somewhat, but he muttered, half under his breath, “You do not know him.” 

“My lord,” Nikandros cut in. “Is this Aimeric a prisoner?” 

“He is being held in Ravenel still,” Damen said, off-handedly. 

“Then,” Nikandros said, “I believe he is in my care.” 

Suddenly, all eyes were on him. Damen’s vague look of concern had morphed into genuine shock. “Careful, Nikandros,” Laurent said, softly, “I do not think you are lord of Ravenel yet.” 

It was not a good move to play; he was clearly agitated, and he had miscalculated. 

“I am not. That is true. But what do you expect to happen,” Nikandros responded, drawing his back straight, “if you give one command and I give my men another?” Perhaps the Kings could direct Nikandros’s men, but they would do it at a great cost. It would undermine Nikandros’s authority. It would create a sense of disunity. There were too few people in this large council room; the Kings did not have so many allies, that they could undermine so many at once. Above all else, the Kings should aspire to hold the center and to keep their alliances firm. Laurent knew this. There was a flash of anger in his eyes, but he took a breath and calmed himself. Nikandros pressed on, “I believe your councilor. This prisoner might provide good testimony. Have you offered him the chance to take the oath?” 

Laurent shook his head. Looking from Nikandros to Laurent, Damen evidently saw an opportunity, and he pounced, “We should ask Aimeric to take it,” he said. “If he refuses, then the answer is clear.” 

“And if he does take it?” Loyse asked, her voice sudden and sharp. “What will become of him?” 

“He should be stripped of his title. He will not be allowed back to Fortaine. He will have to find some other livelihood. My councilor seems to think he could be a worthy political ally. Perhaps he will be. But he would have to come begging for a position before he will be granted anything,” Laurent said. Damen nodded his assent. “This is our decision.” 

Jord and Loyse bowed deeply and took their leave. Nikandros watched them go, and his gaze lingered on them for longer than it should have. 

 

***** 

 

Nikandros’s thoughts were only on the preparations for the trip back to Delpha once the council was adjourned. But Damen pulled him aside privately before he could return to his quarters. 

“I do not understand why you tried to lay claim on Aimeric,” Damen said. “He is nothing but trouble.” 

“I do not know the boy,” Nikandros said, his words clipped. “I did not do it for him.” 

The reason why he had done what he had done was lingering not too far from them. Nikandros gave a nod, and Jord approached. He went down on his knee, even as Damen made to leave. “You’ll see what I mean, Nikandros,” were his parting words. 

“Please, your Excellency, I wanted to have a word with you,” Jord said, looking at Nikandros. “I – you intervened to help Aimeric, thank you.” 

“Rise. Who is Aimeric to you?” asked Nikandros. “You did not say at the Council.”

It was not the question he wanted to ask of Jord. The real question he wanted to ask was: why does Laurent seem to hate you? 

An almost apologetic smile flickered and then faded on Jord’s face as he got to his feet. “I was Captain for parts of the Prince’s Guard on the march south. Aimeric served under me.” 

“Do you always intervene for your soldiers like that?” Nikandros asked. Jord was quiet. That was answer enough for Nikandros. “I forgot,” he added, half under his breath. “Veretian men only lie with men, that’s right.” 

Nikandros did not like the idea of a captain bedding one of his own men. It made everything too complicated. That was why slaves were good to have on campaigns. Stop the men from getting distracted. He could not help but let out a disappointed sigh. That wasn’t going to be an option for him in the future. Another Veretian problem for him now. But he had to refocus. 

“I will give him the option to take the oath,” Nikandros continued, louder this time. He could see the pained look on Jord’s face. “It seems there is something more that you would say on the matter.” 

“He is a good soldier,” Jord said quickly. “And he must know the Veretian border well. He grew up there. He could – he could do a great service in your guard.” 

Nikandros’s eyebrows shot up. A Veretian traitor, serving in his guard. It did not seem like a particularly tempting offer. He thought about Damen’s last words. 

Jord was suddenly on his knees. “I would serve you as well,” he said. “If you would have me.” 

It did occur to Nikandros that Jord had actually found a way to make the arrangement somewhat appealing. He banished the thought, and said instead, with deliberate care, “All this for one man? It is a soldier who should follow his captain, not the other way around.” 

Jord’s face flushed. “I am not a captain anymore.” 

Nikandros let out an amused huff. “Yes, and they said Damianos was no longer a Prince when his brother shipped him off to Vere. Some titles are not easily stripped off a man. But come. Ride with me to Ravenel. I will speak with this Aimeric. A strange new world awaits him.”

Nikandros had not even left Ios and he might have two Veretians in his service. A strange new world awaited them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you liked the first chapter and keep reading! As always, if you want to scream about Aimeric, Jord, and/or Nikandros headcanons or anything, [my ask box is always open on tumblr](http://desastrista.tumblr.com/ask)


	2. Chapter 2

Time in Ravenel passed slowly. The monotony was oppressive. Aimeric forgot what day it is was, how many months had passed. He could see the sun rise and fall, knew days passed by the meals that they gave him. But everything existed in a haze. 

The guards and the servants talked. All they ever heard were rumors, and so all Aimeric knew of the outside world was whispers about whispers. They said that Laurent had killed the Regent. They said the Regent had been declared a traitor. They said Akielos and Vere were to be united into one kingdom. They said, they said. 

Aimeric stopped believing the rumors. Dreams bled into reality, and both tumbled in his head, confused. He lost himself to the monotony of his imprisonment, tried desperately not to drown in his own thoughts. And every time someone knocked on the door, he readied himself for news of his upcoming execution. 

And then one day there was a knock on the door, and in walked Jord. 

Aimeric did not believe it could really be him. Instead, he told himself that he had finally gone mad, that he finally could no longer tell his dreams from reality. 

Aimeric made no motion to stand, no motion to move towards the door. It was Jord who said his name with a strange croak in his voice, Jord who crossed the room to stand beside him, Jord who reached out a hand to touch him but at the last minute stopped himself. 

Aimeric could not meet his gaze. He’d been sitting at the desk they’d provided him. His limbs felt suddenly far too heavy; he doubted he could have moved them if tried. 

“Aimeric,” Jord said, his voice soft. “Are you alright? Have they treated you well?” 

“Jord,” Aimeric responded. His tongue was too dry. It was an effort to even form the words. “What are you doing here?” 

Jord gave him a pained smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me,” he said. Aimeric jerked his head up. Jord looked suddenly self-conscious. “Given our last night –.” 

The last night Aimeric had seen Jord was the night of the confrontation with Laurent. Only weeks after had he been given the news that Jord had left the castle to go south on the campaign. Aimeric thought he was familiar with guilt. With regret. But both those emotions had been eating him alive these past few months. Sometimes Aimeric thought they’d consumed so much of him that he wondered how much of himself was even left. 

And here was Jord, saying he was not sure if Aimeric would want to see him. 

“I’d have thought,” Aimeric said, the words coming out very slowly, “that you would not want to see me.” He shook his head. Trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice, he added, “I don’t know why you do.” 

Jord took a few steps to stand behind him. He put his hands on Aimeric’s shoulders and started to massage the muscles there. Despite himself, Aimeric found himself leaning back into the touch. It was more human contact than he had had in a while. 

“I missed you, Aimeric,” Jord said. “I worried about you.” 

“I don’t understand why,” Aimeric said, tilting his head back to look at Jord. There was a half-smile on Jord’s lips, but his eyes were sad. Aimeric continued, “If I were you, I would have left me to rot.” 

“No,” Jord said, his thumb making gentle circles at the base of Aimeric’s neck. 

“After everything I did –.” 

“I don’t blame you for what you did,” Jord said firmly, and Aimeric closed his mouth. He couldn’t help but frown. Jord kept making these gentle circles against his back. He wasn’t really looking at Aimeric, though, as he spoke. “I wasn’t angry with you, not really. I tried to be. I thought I should be. But I was just – sad. Sad that you got caught up in something so much larger than yourself. Sad that your father did not look after you. Sad that the Regent had you fooled. I think he fooled almost everyone in Vere, though.” 

Aimeric was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry, Jord,” he finally said. “For everything.” 

After a long pause, Jord asked, “Sorry enough that you’ll swear loyalty to the new Kings?” 

Whatever he thought Jord might say to him, Aimeric had not been expecting that. His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” 

Jord took a deep breath before he continued, “Laurent and Damianos have given over Ravenel to one of the kyroi. Nikandros. I ride a few days ahead of him. He is supposed to make you swear an oath. Everyone is supposed to swear their allegiance to the new kings. If you do, you will be pardoned. If you don’t –,” his voice broke off abruptly. After a moment, he continued, “Aimeric, please, I know you can be stubborn, but just take the oath.” 

Aimeric was quiet for a moment. A thought had occurred to him, “If an Akielon is to take over Ravenel,” he said, “what are you doing here?” 

“I swore myself to his service,” he said, “If he would consider taking you on in his service too.” He must have seen some of the confusion on Aimeric’s face, because he added, “Laurent would not be content until he had stripped you of your title. But to serve with Nikandros – it is a good role.” 

He gave the news almost apologetically, as if it were a great tragedy for a fourth son like Aimeric to be disinherited. That had not been the source of Aimeric’s confusion, though. “You rode all the way here,” Aimeric said, and despite himself he smiled, “On the chance that I would swear my loyalty to these new Kings, at least one of whom personally despises me, and swore yourself to an Akielon in the hopes that I would put myself in his service because I lacked a title?” 

Jord shifted his weight between his legs. “Yes,” he said, finally. 

“I cannot imagine why Laurent let you leave his service. You are the most loyal person I’ve ever met.” 

Jord was smiling, but he let out an exasperated huff. “I don’t think,” he said, and it was hard to miss the rueful note in his voice, “that Laurent is particularly keen to talk with me these days.” 

“Because of me,” Aimeric said. 

Jord ran his fingers through Aimeric’s hair. “It’ll all be in the past,” he said, “if you swear loyalty to these new kings.” 

Aimeric gave a small nod. Jord made a motion to leave, and Aimeric couldn’t help the noise of protest he made. “Please, Jord,” he said. “Stay with me?” 

It was an awfully unfair request. Jord was a free man; Aimeric was still under guard. But with the castle leadership having changed so many times, the guards were lenient about letting Jord stay longer than he should have. Jord ended up staying the night. It felt nice, to have Jord kiss him again, to feel once more Jord’s touch on his skin. He was tanner than he had been before, and Aimeric teased him about the Akielon sun. Jord fretted that Aimeric was thinner than he had been. He told Aimeric that a guard had no business losing as much weight as he had during his captivity. 

Jord fell asleep in the bed, and Aimeric curled himself up tight against him. 

 

***** 

 

Jord had to prepare the castle for the arrival of the Akielons. 

(Again.) 

Enguerran had left some of the men in charge of the castle after Lord Touras had been executed as a traitor. They would be marching to Sicyong after Nikandros’s forces arrived. They knew of Jord, and if they had any qualms about listening to him, the strangeness of the situation and the signet of the new Kings meant there were no complaints, at least none he heard. 

The staff, however, was peppering him with questions. They had heard the Akielons had desecrated the great fortress of Marlas, would that happen in Ravenel? What kind of food did Akielons eat? If they brought their bastards, would Ravenel not be cursed? Would they be replaced or allowed to serve under this new kyori? How were they supposed to communicate with their new lords if they did not speak Akielon? 

Jord answered to the best of his ability, which meant that most of the questions went unanswered. He had spoken with Nikandros at length on the ride north, but somehow it never seemed to be enough. The question of language dogged him – he knew enough Akielon to get by, but it did not come naturally. He had spoken with Nikandros mostly in Veretian. It would be difficult when he had to report directly to the new commander that Nikandros had chosen, Theradon. But Jord tried to put aside those thoughts. He had to make sure that the fortress and everyone in it was ready for the arrival of Nikandros. 

What time he could spare was spent with Aimeric. Aimeric did not ask questions about the Akielons. He only protested when Jord would go to leave, his lips a petulant frown, as Jord swore that he would be back when he could. There was no helping it. Aimeric was still a prisoner, until Nikandros issued otherwise. 

Too little time, and then the day arrived when the sentries saw riders in the distance. Nikandros had arrived. 

Everyone in Ravenel came to the main courtyard to watch the arrival of the Akielons. Jord overheard them talking amongst themselves. They muttered about “half-dressed barbarians” and Jord heard more than one person fretting over the fate of a tapestry or a particular favorite vase. 

Jord had spent weeks traveling with the Akielons, he did not need to see them arrive; as the first of the soldiers started to stream through the gates, he walked up the stairs to where Aimeric was being kept, and told Aimeric’s guards that he should be let go to see Nikandros. 

“We should bind his hands when we present him to the kyros,” one of the guards said. 

Jord thought anxiously about the kind of impression that might make. “No,” he said, “It’ll be fine. He’ll cooperate.” 

Probably. Aimeric had been more subdued than Jord remembered on the campaign south. Maybe that could help his case with Nikandros. 

The guard looked skeptical, but he went into the room and reappeared, his grip tight against Aimeric’s arm. He pushed Aimeric towards Jord, who wrapped an arm around the former aristocrat. Aimeric looked back at the room where he’d been held for the past few months. Jord could feel him shudder. “I hope,” he muttered, half to himself, “that I never have to go back inside that room again.” 

“It’ll be fine,” muttered Nikandros, “Just...make a good impression for Nikandros.” 

He helped walked Aimeric over to the balcony. Nikandros had already made his entrance. Jord could see him talking to the guard who had been responsible for the upkeep of the Palace. Akielon slaves and soldiers had started to mill around the courtyard. 

“Is that him?” Aimeric asked. Jord nodded. “I remember I used to meet kyori, sometimes, with my father. Doubt he ever expected me to serve one.” Aimeric had been smiling. The smile started to fade from his face. 

“Nikandros is a good man,” Jord said. Aimeric nodded, but he seemed distracted somehow.

“We should go,” Aimeric said. 

They walked down the stairs. Already some Akielon soldiers had started to congregate in the stairwell, to see the Palace where they would be inhabiting. They knew Jord, but stared at Aimeric as Jord walked him down. They said something, but Jord was not listening; all he could think about was the interview that Aimeric would be given. 

Too late, he felt Aimeric freeze up under his grip. Aimeric stopped and yelled something back at one of the Akielons, who must have been speaking to them – but Jord could not make out the words, they’d been said too quickly. But he knew enough from Aimeric’s tone. He tightened his grip on Aimeric’s arm instinctively. Whatever Aimeric had yelled, it had clearly struck a nerve, because one of the soldiers approached them. 

“What did you say?” the Akielon asked, this time slow enough for Jord to understand. The soldier’s tone was not complimentary. 

Aimeric spat on the ground in response.

The punch landed before either of them could respond. Aimeric hit the ground of the courtyard, hard. Jord put himself between the Akielon and Aimeric. “Stop it,” he spat out, the Akielon words rough in his throat. The soldier gave him an appraising look, and Jord readied himself for a fight. 

They both turned when a voice said, “Well, this must be Aimeric.” 

Nikandros had walked over to where they had been standing. He took in the scene with a half smile. Jord swore under his breath. 

 

***** 

 

Nikandros had dismissed his guards and retired into his private quarters. He had dismissed Jord – it had taken a few attempts, as Jord kept trying to explain that this was unusual, that it would not happen again, and more. The only person that Nikandros had not dismissed was Aimeric, who he had sat down in a chair. Aimeric had given Jord a long look as Jord left, but he would not meet Nikandros’s gaze. 

Nikandros knew a little bit of the Lord Guion’s sons. Marlas was very close to Fortaine, after all. But from all that he had heard about Aimeric, from Damen, from Laurent, from Jord, he was not prepared for a kid with dust in his hair and blood covering half his face.

“My guard said you provoked him,” Nikandros began in Akielon. 

Aimeric let out an indignant huff. “He insulted me,” he said, also in Akielon. His accent was thick, but otherwise the Akielon was understandable. The language seemed to come easier to him than it did to Jord. It must come from having been raised on the border. Nikandros just raised an eyebrow at the response, though. Aimeric continued, “Said I’d fetch a high price on the slave market.” 

Nikandros let out an amused snort. “That’s no insult,” he said. Aimeric did not hide his skepticism well – he seemed to have an expressive face – and Nikandros added, “At least, it’s not to an Akielon.” He had to admit to himself, the soldier made a good point. Aimeric had nice cheekbones, a nice mouth. 

But there was no missing the antagonistic look in his eyes. Nikandros remembered Damen’s warning: Aimeric was trouble. 

Nikandros thought of the lengths Jord had gone to defend Aimeric. He was surprised at how much the thought angered him. It seemed like such a waste.

But he had to put that aside. Nikandros had been give a mission, he would see it through. He took a seat across from Aimeric. “Tilt back your head,” he advised. “It will help with the bleeding.” Aimeric gave him a long look, but did eventually do as he said. “Good,” Nikandros continued, “Now, is it true what I heard, that you took up arms against the Kings?” 

Aimeric nodded slightly, and flinched as the movement drew forth flesh blood. He tilted his head back again. 

A dangerous curiosity got the better of Nikandros. “Does that also mean you bore arms against Jord?” 

A flash of surprise, and then badly concealed guilt, on Aimeric’s face now. “Yes,” he said, eventually in a quiet voice. 

“He defended you before the Kings’ council,” Nikandros said, and he could not stop disapproval from coloring his tone. Aimeric did not respond. His features were composed, but there was a dark look in his eyes. He would not look at Nikandros, who continued, “I do not know why.” 

A thin, bitter smile crept over Aimeric’s face. “I do not know why either,” he said. “I doubt you’ll find anyone who does, except Jord.” 

Nikandros gave a long sigh. Aimeric was making this difficult. He added, “Jord suggested you might be useful. You grew up on the border, you clearly speak Akielon –.” 

“I was the fourth son to Lord Guion of Fortaine. I know the border.” There was a dangerous edge to his voice, and he muttered angrily to himself in Veretian as soon as he had spoken them, “I will be as helpful as any fourth son ever was.” 

Nikandros tried again. “It was suggested, at the council, that you might be a powerful ally in Laurent’s cause, if you would speak against the Regent.” 

That just seemed to agitate Aimeric further who, still speaking Veretian, said sharply, “What? To make a spectacle of myself? To prostrate myself before other lords and say, lend your support to Laurent, the Regent fucked me when I was a boy?” Aimeric turned his head sharply, and this time seemed unbothered when the movement made more blood flow. 

Nikandros had not heard that particular truth about Aimeric before. He thought of the pity the Veretian councilors had shown. Right now it did little to temper Nikandros’s own feelings, though. He waited for Aimeric to calm down slightly, before he said in a quiet voice, “You will speak Akielon here.” 

Aimeric dropped his gaze. 

Some part of Nikandros wanted to dismiss Aimeric. Send him out of the castle. The boy seemed obstinate enough, let him make his own way in the world. It was only thinking of Jord, who had dragged himself before the council, who had gotten on his knees before Nikandros – Nikandros gave a sigh. “Well,” he said, “at the very least, you are a Veretian who can speak Akielon, so there will be work for you here in Ravenel. I was given a mission by my new Kings to serve here in Vere. That service is available to you, if you wish. All you have to do is swear to honor the new Kings, to obey their orders, and protect this new kingdom from harm. Do you swear that?” 

Aimeric was still looking at the floor. His eyes had a faraway look to them. “Yes,” he said finally, in Akielon. 

Nikandros made him bow on his knees and recite the pledge. He wondered if anyone else had pledged themselves to Damen and Laurent while thinking so clearly of another. 

When it was done, he commanded Aimeric to rise. 

“Welcome to my service, Aimeric.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated the summary info to include some new faces introduced in this chapter: Torveld and Halvik! Erasmus also gets a shout out, though not enough to merit being tagged. Some other day, Erasmus!

While the Akielon soldiers got settled, Aimeric got cleaned up, and when it was all done Nikandros introduced Aimeric to Theradon. Jord watched from a distance; he could see how Theradon’s eyes travelled coldly over Aimeric. He introduced himself in Veretian, but smiled when Aimeric responded in Akielon. He called over Jord, as well. 

“With Enguerran’s men riding south today, you two are the only Veretians guards we have,” he said, speaking slowly in Akielon for Jord’s benefit. And then he gave a bark of a laugh, “You look like pincushions! Let’s get you some real clothes.” 

Aimeric stiffened as he turned, but backed down after a meaningful look from Jord. 

They were led to a separate room to change into the new Akielon armor. “It feels odd,” Aimeric complained. “Too heavy and too light at the same time.” 

Jord ran his hands along the hem of Aimeric’s leather skirt, causing Aimeric to laugh. “I’m not complaining,” said Jord, as he leaned down to give Aimeric a quick kiss. 

They spent a few hours training that day, and it went well. Just when Jord started to relax and think that maybe he could get settled in to this new life, however, he heard a woman screaming. She was cursing in Veretian, and Jord turned his head in her direction reflexively. 

The scream brought out Nikandros. “Theradon, go see what it is,” he said. Theradon nodded. “She sounds Veretian – Jord, you better go too.” 

Jord didn’t dwell on the breach of protocol. Instead, he climbed the stairs quickly behind Theradon. An Akielon soldier was standing near the screaming woman, looking confused. He muttered something to Theradon, who just frowned. The woman was cursing the soldier and all Akielons and only stopped when Jord put his hand on her shoulder. 

“I didn’t expect him to lift my skirts,” she kept saying. “You have to stop him, what he’s doing is wrong.” 

“I paid her, I don’t know what she’s talking about,” the man muttered. 

It took a few minutes for Jord to tell the woman that the Akielons did not have the same concerns about creating bastards that Veretians did. Theradon chided the man for causing a scene, and the man just complained that he didn’t speak any Veretian anyway, so what was he supposed to do.

“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Theradon responded.

It happened again. 

The next day, one of the cooks lost his temper at an Akielon slave that Nikandros had assigned to help in the kitchens. When Jord talked to him, the cook first yelled about how the slave was just standing there waiting for orders, then how he didn’t know what he was doing – and finally finished it all off by muttering darkly about how it didn’t matter because Nikandros would be replacing the entire staff with Akielon slaves any day now. Jord tried to appease the man’s doubts, but later that night Jord stopped by Nikandros's quarter to discuss the incident in private. They spoke for a while before Nikandros agreed to instruct the slaves to only serve the soldiers instead. Jord asked him why he did not just release the slaves – Vere had never had slavery, Jord didn’t see why they were needed here anymore – but all Nikandros would say was that the subject was “difficult”. 

It was dark by the time that Jord went to sleep. It had been a good conversation, he was in a good mood, but Aimeric frowned when Jord told him about what had happened. 

“Nikandros is going to make you his lap dog,” Aimeric said, as he curled up against Jord on the pallet they shared. “Every time anything goes wrong in the castle, he calls for you.” 

“It’s not like that,” said Jord. “He just...needs someone who understands Veretians, that’s all.” 

“Mhmm,” Aimeric did not sound convinced. “Jord, half the castle is Veretians. And you’re not the only one of that half who can speak Akielon.” 

The next time that Nikandros pulled him aside, Jord did ask, “Why do you keep asking me to help with these incidents?” 

Nikandros’s brow furrowed. “Is there someone else you had in mind?” 

“Aimeric speaks Akielon better than I do.” 

Now it was time for Nikandros’s eyebrows to shoot up. “Would you want Aimeric to have been the one to comfort a screaming woman about what the Akielon soldier intended? Or the chef who thought he would be without employment soon?” 

Jord frowned. “He’s not –.” Jord stopped himself. Nikandros might have a point. But he continued, doggedly, “You just have to get to know him better.” 

Nikandros, to his credit, kept his expression of disbelief mild. But then, with a sudden frown, he added, “Jord, if you do not want to –.” 

“No,” Jord found himself saying. “I like doing this, I just –.” 

Jord really did like it that Nikandros was trusting him to handle these affairs, even if was unusual that he did not go through Jord’s captain first. 

But before he could think about the subject more, Nikandros interrupted his thoughts. “Good,” he said. “Because I’ll really need you in the next few weeks.” He must have seen Jord’s confusion because he added, with a half-smile, “At the end of the month, we will be hosting a great feast to commemorate this castle being the new seat of power in Delpha. The whole castle will need to work together to pull this off.” 

Jord paled. 

“That seems,” he started, hollowly. He cleared his throat. “Ambitious.” 

Nikandros laughed. “Of any less ambition than uniting two kingdoms?” 

Someone called for Nikandros and he took his leave. Jord did not not make any motion to go. Instead, after a moment, he cursed under his breath quietly. 

 

****** 

 

The first signs that this feast would be more of a challenge than expected came when Theradon announced to the troops in the morning that Damianos and Laurent would be attending. Jord was almost inconsolable about the fact. 

“We have Kings to impress now,” he’d said miserably. 

Aimeric did not share Jord’s negative outlook. It was not that he was somehow more optimistic than Jord or anything – he just cared less about the need to impress the two kings. After all, things were otherwise going well in Ravenel. He was a free man, no longer under guard. He was getting used to the new schedule of being a guard. The Akielon skirts made it so easy for Jord to fuck him. And if Jord was often busy helping Nikandros – if Theradon and Nikandros and all the other Akielons still seemed to regard him suspiciously – if he still woke up in a cold sweat with guilty thoughts of Orlant or the Regent or his father – well. Things were better than they had been for a while. 

Aimeric didn’t tell Jord that, though. Instead he said, with a wicked smile, “You know, Damen was a slave for a few months. I think we can at least provide him better accommodations than when he was in Arles.” 

Jord put his heads in hands and groaned.

Later, there was news that Patras would also be sending a delegate. Aimeric overheard some of the guards talking about it while Jord was off mediating another dispute between the soldiers and some of the Veretian staff. 

“They say that Torgeir has even weighted whether to attend.” 

“The King of Patras? There’s no way.” 

Aimeric decided not to share that particular conversation with Jord. He’d been looking stressed out enough already. 

It was Jord who informed him that apparently there was an ambassador from Vask who would be coming too. 

“How did you find out?” Aimeric asked. 

“Nikandros mentioned it,” Jord said. “Apparently, she told him that she knew Damen and Laurent from the campaign south." 

“Will the Empress be there?” Aimeric asked. “I always wanted to see a panther in person.” 

Jord shook his head. “Don’t even joke about these things.” 

Aimeric laughed. He wondered for a moment if he should ask about all the time that Jord was spending with Nikandros, but thought better of it. 

And then the time came when Nikandros summoned him. 

“I’ve sent an invitation to your brother,” Nikandros said. He was sitting behind his desk, and did not look at Aimeric, who was standing at attention. “Gilen. He is now the Lord of Fortaine, and as such commands a nearby territory. It seemed only appropriate.” 

The blood left Aimeric’s face. He tried to think of something to say. He opened his mouth, but no words would come out. He closed his lips tightly together. 

Nikandros had started to give him that long, appraising look that Aimeric wondered if he reserved just for him. “Do you want me to tell him that you are here?” he asked, finally, to Aimeric’s surprise. Nikandros had turned his attention back to whatever it was on his desk again. “Gilen might have heard by now. It was not exactly a secret. But there is a chance that he has not.” 

The words were softly spoken. It was a kindness, Aimeric knew, to ask; a kindness he likely did not deserve. 

Nikandros had been spending a lot of time with Jord. 

“I,” he started. He looked down at the ground for a moment, and then back at Nikandros. “Thank you. I would prefer if my brother did not know that I was here. At least,” he amended hastily, “at least not right now.” 

Nikandros gave a small nod. Aimeric knew he was dismissed. He went back to the quarters he shared with Jord, where Jord was on the floor, carefully cleaning his armor. Aimeric sat down next to him with a huff and leaned against his shoulder. Jord let the armor drop and wrapped an arm around him. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“I already hate this stupid feast,” Aimeric muttered, burying his face in Jord’s neck. Jord just ran his fingers through his hair and gave the back of his head a quick kiss. 

 

******

 

The whole castle was cleaned. The kitchens worked all day to get enough food ready. Servants, slaves, and soldiers all worked together to make sure that everything was ready. Veretians and Akielons, working together. 

The process did not always go smoothly, but at least things appeared to be ready by the time the guests were at the gates. 

The Patran ambassador was the first to arrive. A moderately size retinue, mostly soldiers. Jord was surprised to see that he recognized the man who appeared to be leading them. It was the same man who had provided Laurent with men at the battle of Ravenel, Prince Torveld. Jord was alive because of this man. A brief thought flickered in his mind, that he should thank Torveld, but he very much doubted the man knew who he was. After all, he had not been a Captain at the time. He doubted he ever would be again.

He decided not to say anything to Torveld. Nikandros was taking charge of the introductions. The Patran delegate had a few hours to get settled, and then the Vaskian delegate arrived. Most were on horses, almost all of them were women. They had, however, brought with them some Akielon slaves of both genders. Jord realized with a start that he had not seen any arriving with the Patran delegate. He had always heard that Patras, like Akielos, was a slave-owning culture. It seemed strange than that Torveld had not brought any with him. But even as he was thinking this, he saw Torveld come out to the courtyard, with a few of his men, to join Nikandros in witnessing the arrival of the Vaskian delegate. The clanswoman gave a knowing nod to him, which he returned. 

“There was a truce,” Jord said to Aimeric, who was watching next to him. “Perhaps those two were involved.” 

Aimeric nodded, but he looked distracted. “Jord,” he said suddenly, as if he had just made up his mind at the moment, “I think I’m going to go to the kitchens. I’ll be spending a bit more time there than normal.” 

Jord looked at him in confusion. “Your brother is coming soon. Aren’t you going to see him?” 

“I distinctly hope I do not.” Aimeric’s lips were curled upwards, but there was no amusement in his eyes.

Jord frowned. “You’re ashamed of being disinherited?” he asked. Perhaps it was a source of shame for Aimeric. Jord had no idea. He did not know what it must be like to lose a family title; he’d never had one. 

Aimeric just shook his head in response. “It’s not – it’s not like that.” But he did not seem ready to say what it was like, so he kissed Jord quickly and then left. 

The courtyard was emptying out again. Jord stood there longer than he needed to, his grip too tight against the bannisters. 

It was close to dark by the time Gilen arrived. His party was small, far smaller than either delegation for Patras or the Vaskian Empire. No doubt the order to split his lands with Touras’s heir had hurt the family income. Gilen had brought a wife and a few of their children along with him. Although he was fifteen years Aimeric’s senior and had a family of his own, Jord could not help but notice the strong family resemblance between him and Aimeric. They shared the same high cheekbones. The same fine features. The same proud gaze. 

The same look of having been cornered in this game. 

Jord watched Nikandros greet Gilen personally, just as he had done for the previous two ambassadors. At first, it surprised Jord. After all, Nikandros was a busy man. But then again, even with his income curtailed and family name tainted, Gilen was still the lord of Fortaine. It was so easy to forget that, the way Aimeric talked about him. 

Jord went to their quarters to see if Aimeric had returned, and when he was not there, he went to the kitchens. He found Aimeric sitting near the back corner, a good distance away from anyone else, although he seemed to be watching the cooks intently as they cleaned up the kitchen for the night. 

“Your brother’s arrived,” Jord said, “so you missed him. Damen and Laurent arrive tomorrow. Are you going to be hiding here tomorrow too?” 

Aimeric curled up against his shoulder. “I’d rather keep a low profile until this is all over,” he mumbled. “I doubt Laurent or Damen would much want to see me.” 

“I doubt Laurent wants to see me either, but I’m still going,” Jord pointed out. Aimeric let out a small huff. 

“Laurent would be mad not to want to see you again,” Aimeric said, with a disbelieving shake of his head. He added, “I’m going to stay here tomorrow. Tell me how it goes.” He made a motion to stand up. Jord stood too. As they turned to walk back to their quarters, Aimeric added, his voice slightly lowered, “Besides, I’m sure Nikandros needs you.” 

Jord didn’t say anything, but he thought about those words a lot long after Aimeric had drifted off to sleep. 

 

******

 

This would be the first time that the new kings travelled through their new kingdom. It would be the first time that the kingdom could see their new kings together. 

Part of Nikandros wished he did not feel so nervous about it. 

But no, he told himself, he was the shield of his kings; he was a trusted advisor; he was supposed to be nervous, it would keep him alert, it would keep him and his kings alive. 

He had made sure that Theradon was standing at the ready for the arrival of the kings. He had asked Jord if he wanted to be there too. It was a violation of the chain of command, it was favoritism, but Nikandros didn’t care. Jord politely demurred, evidently showing more restraint than Nikandros did. He said he intended to watch from the balconies, with everyone else. 

Nikandros wondered what a view the balcony provided, because the view from standing in the courtyard was incredible. The kings’ retinue was large, and they marched under a new banner: red and blue, a lion below a starburst. Some of the men wore Veretian outfits. Others wore Akielon. Some, it seemed, were experimenting a bit with both. 

Nikandros found himself wondering, almost wistfully, what style his men would be wearing in a few years. 

“Nikandros,” said Damen, as he approached with Laurent. He pulled in Nikandros for a fierce hug. “It is good to see you. Is Vere treating you well?” 

“I am getting adjusted,” he replied. Damen laughed. Even Laurent smiled. 

The new kings wanted to see the castle. “I confess,” Laurent said slowly, looking from a particularly intricately carved wall to Nikandros and back again, “I am glad that you did not redecorate like you did at Marlas. We are still looking to rebuild some of the original architecture there.” 

Nikandros looked at the same wall that Laurent seemed to admire. He had to wince. “I admit it still hurts my eyes sometimes,” he said, “They need a place to rest.” Damen let out a sympathetic laugh, and Nikandros continued, “But the Veretians here like it, so it stays. Times are different now.” 

“And,” Laurent said, switching suddenly to Veretian, “do you think the Akielons here are satisfied with the changes that are coming?” 

Nikandros thought of the large retinue the kings had arrived with. Soldiers. Servants. Courtiers. Squires. 

No slaves. 

“No one knows yet,” Nikandros said. Even to his own ears, his voice was too stiff. 

“They will no doubt get suspicious, when they see how we have arrived,” Laurent pointed out. 

Damen shifted the weight between his feet. “A matter of personal preference, that is all,” he said. Nikandros was not convinced. 

“When do you think,” Laurent pressed, “that you will release your slaves, Nikandros?” 

“Sometime soon,” Nikandros said, and it took some force of will not to grind his teeth. He did not want to dwell on this subject matter. He was reminded of something strange, though, “You were not the only ones to forsake slaves. There is a delegate from Patras here, and they came with only servants and other free men.” 

Since Laurent and Damen were more familiar with the Patran ambassador than Nikandros, he had thought maybe they would understand. He knew his own men had started to whisper about it. But instead, Laurent and Damen merely looked at each other in confusion. “That seems – unlike them,” Damen began tentatively. 

Laurent said with a sigh, “I hope this is not somehow a consequence of another wild rumor.” 

Nikandros shrugged. “We will find out during the feast, I suppose.” 

 

****** 

 

They had prepared the great hall for a feast: a large table had been placed at the front, with Laurent and Damen to sit in the middle. Nikandros sat on Damen’s right and to the left of Torveld. Gilen sat next to Laurent – neither of them looked too happy with this arrangement – and to the left of the Vaskian ambassador, Halvik. 

It was a rowdy crowd and soon the hall was filled with the sounds of laughing and drinking. Nikandros tried to relax. His eyes found Jord almost immediately. Jord seemed to be having a hard time relaxing as well – his shoulders were hunched over and he did not seem to be joining those around him in their festivities. Aimeric was nowhere in sight, and the thought that that was perhaps the reason for Jord’s dour mood felt unnervingly close to jealousy. Nikandros tried to meet Jord’s gaze, but without success. 

The evening might be easier to get through if Nikandros had some wine, but his goblet had not been refilled in many minutes and was presently empty. He finally gestured towards one of the servants, who hastened to the kitchens to fetch more wine. He thought of his favorite slave, Philomena, who he had once offered to Damen. She would have been attentive. She wouldn’t have had to been explicitly told to make sure his glass was full. Nikandros gave a pointed look at Damen and then his wine glass. Damen just gave a small, apologetic shrug. Nikandros knew that Damen’s experience in Vere had affected him deeply and that he wanted the slave trade ended, and what Damen wanted Nikandros would see done. 

But still, he wanted some damn wine. 

“Torveld,” Damen said, turning to stare past Nikandros, “How is Erasmus? I had hoped to see him again.” 

“Erasmus seems to be taking well to Bazal,” Torveld said, lifting his own glass to his lips. He chuckled as he said, “It was quite the surprise for both of us to learn the truth about you.” 

“Don’t tell me he’s too embarrassed to show his face here,” Damen replied. 

Torveld set the wine glass down with a dull thud. “No,” he said. “Although he did say he regretted telling you that I was likely more attractive than a certain Prince Damianos.” Both men laughed, but then Torveld shook his head, his expression more somber. “No, I did not bring him here because I thought it might – cause some difficulties. You see, I freed him recently.” 

Any trace of amusement left Damen’s face. He was quiet for a moment. Finally, he said, “Yes, that might have caused some difficulties.” 

“Did anything change?” Nikandros found himself asking. “After you freed this slave.” 

Nikandros ignored the quizzical look that Damen was giving him, instead focusing on the contemplative look on Torveld’s face. “I think,” the Prince said eventually, “I think it did come as a surprise. After all, Erasmus was raised to be a slave. He did not know anything else.” 

“Quite unlike your time in Vere, Damen,” Nikandros muttered.

Damen had narrowed his eyes, and seemed as if he might reply, but Torveld - who seemed not to have noticed the exchange - spoke first. “Erasmus has decided to stay in Bazal, to continue in my service as a servant. So in that sense, not much has changed. But I think – it’s his choice now. It’s not some scheme by Laurent or Damianos and it’s not a trade negotiation between kingdoms that keeps him with me now. So in that sense, everything is different.” 

Nikandros did not have anything to say to that. Damen just gave a knowing nod. Nikandros looked down at his goblet. But his thoughts weren’t on wine. They weren’t on the conversation that Damen and Torveld were continuing to have in the background. Instead, he thought of the sunrise that he had seen so many days ago in Ios. He thought about the sensation he’d had that day, that the world was changing. 

He turned his gaze to the guests before him. 

And then there was Jord, whispering in his ear.

“I have reason to believe that your next meal has been poisoned.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A while ago I saw a post on tumblr talking about how Patras and the Vaskian Empire would react to the fact that two of their neighbors had decided to unite. I didn't necessarily set out to talk about that when I decided to write this fic, but it ended up coming up this chapter! Romance and geopolitical intrigue, two great tastes that go great together.

Nikandros left the banquet with a quiet but polite word, asking his guests to carry on without him. 

As he approached the kitchens, he heard the distant noise of shouting. But one of his men announced his arrival, so by the time he was actually in the kitchen, a sullen silence had descended on the busy room. 

“What,” he asked, addressing the crowd at large, “is going on here?” 

The sharp drawing of breath from the head cook and the guilty expression of Aimeric – the two of whom were standing on opposite sides of the table – that they had been the main ones in the argument. Nikandros was somehow unsurprised. 

It was the chef who spoke first. “He was causing trouble,” he said, pointing at Aimeric. “He was in here all of today, most of yesterday. Wouldn’t say anything to anyone, just sitting there in the back by himself, until all of a sudden he starts yelling at some man who’s by the food, caused a big scene. The man fled.” 

Aimeric only half turned to Nikandros. “The man thought no one was looking.” He was speaking in Akielon. It normally would have been expected of him, helpful even, but most everyone who worked in the kitchens was Veretian and there were a few giving Aimeric an openly suspicious look as he talked. 

The kitchen staff were clearly spooked by what had happened; anything that could nurture rumors would do no one any good. Nikandros gave a heavy sigh. “Please,” he said in Veretian, “Repeat what you said in Veretian.” 

Aimeric obeyed, although he gave Nikandros a curious look. “The man thought no one was looking. I saw him, he had a vial, he poured something over one of the dishes – I got suspicious, I called out to him to ask what he was doing. He looked panicked. Ran away. I tried to follow him, but he was too fast.” 

“So you told Jord?” 

Aimeric shifted uneasily. “I talked to the chefs, they wouldn’t believe me. I talked to Theradon, he didn’t believe me. They were getting ready to serve the food, Jord was the only one who would listen to me.” 

Nikandros frowned. “Where is Theradon?” 

A stir of motion, and Theradon stepped forward. “Why did you not alert me about the poisoning?” Nikandros asked. He turned to the cook, “Why did you not immediately test the dish? And tell me that there are men after this would be poisoner.” 

“Men have been sent,” Theradon replied mildly. “As for the food, it was taken outside. There’s a goat intended for the feast tonight that will soon know the truth about that dish.” 

A few minutes later, a gaggle of soldiers walked in to the kitchen. They nodded first at Nikandros and then Theradon. They looked various degrees of uneasy, and the one who seemed to be the leader’s face was ashen when he stepped forward to give the news. “It was your dish, sir. And yes, it was poisoned.”

Nikandros turned to Theradon, whose placid demeanor had been replaced by a sharp frown. “Find the man,” Nikandros urged. “But keep the feast going as usual. There are to be no more interruptions than necessary. When the feasting is done, though, summon Laurent and Damianos to a private room. No one is to interrupt us. We will discuss this matter there.” He turned to Aimeric, “You know what the man looked like. Go with the others to hunt him down.” And then to Jord, “Keep a lookout.” 

 

***** 

 

Jord spent the rest of the night watching over the kitchen carefully. Everyone was on edge. A few soldiers had stayed: the staff kept looking over their shoulders at the soldiers and muttering to themselves. 

“What a way to begin a kingdom,” someone muttered. Jord tried not to flinch. 

There had only ever been one assassination attempt on Laurent’s life while Jord was in the Prince’s Guard. Jord remembered the wave of nausea and disbelief he had felt when he had discovered that plot. He’d felt the same again today, when Aimeric whispered in his ear that he believed someone was going to poison Nikandros. 

Laurent had survived that assassination attempt; Nikandros had survived his own. Jord knew he should be relieved. But even knowing Nikandros was safe now, Jord was still worried. It was a restless, purposeless anxiety that he did not like at all. 

And it was made worse when hours later he was summoned to a private room upstairs. There was Nikandros and Theradon, but also Damen and Laurent. Jord gave a stiff bow. He was keenly aware that everyone in the room was watching him, and not all kindly. 

“It was Jord who warned me,” Nikandros said, with a nod of acknowledgment. “Jord, why don’t you explain what happened?” 

Jord stuttered. “Well, I was sitting down, and Aimeric came to me, saying he had seen someone strange in the kitchens –.” 

“Why was Aimeric in the kitchens?” Laurent asked quickly. The accusation in his voice was only thinly veiled. Jord’s tongue felt strangely heavy in his mouth. He did not want to answer. 

“Avoiding his brother, I assume,” Nikandros shrugged. Jord felt a rush of gratitude. “I asked him if he wanted his brother to know he was here,” Nikandros continued, “he told me no. I assume this was just his way of making sure his brother did not see him.” 

And to think that Aimeric had teased him when Jord had said that Nikandros was a good man.

Laurent gave the barest of nods. Jord took it as a sign to continue. “Aimeric suspected poison. He’d tried to tell Theradon, but Theradon did not believe him.” 

Now all eyes were on Theradon, who sighed. “I had not wanted to share this earlier in the kitchen, with so many members of the staff around. But – there were rumors going around, that Aimeric wanted to sabotage the feast.” 

Jord instinctively step forward. Damen and Laurent both turned to look at him, and with some force of will he stopped himself. 

With some effort he managed to push past gritted teeth, “That’s not true.” 

“If Nikandros had not managed to control the situation as he did, it could have looked quite bad for the kingdom. A poisoning attempt, at what was supposed to be a unification ceremony,” Damen said, his gaze no longer on Jord, “with the envoys of two kingdoms watching.” 

“Still nothing compared to an actual poisoning,” Nikandros pointed out. 

“I went to the kitchens,” Theradon continued, “and asked some of the servants there. They said that they heard Aimeric yell, but were not sure who he was yelling at.” 

“It was likely quite crowded and confused, with all the work that would have been going on for the feast,” Damen offered. “They might have had difficulty seeing anyone who was there.” 

“They might have been paid not to see anyone who was there,” Laurent muttered. 

“The man has yet to be found,” Theradon pointed out. “It is possible that he does not exist.” 

“I understand your concerns, Theradon,” Nikandros cut in, “but I believe Aimeric’s report and you should have taken it more seriously. There’s a dead goat now who can testify to that. As for the escaped man – well, someone poisoned my dish, and I want to know who.” 

There was a knock on the door. “Perfect,” Laurent said. “The scouts may be able to confirm one way or another.” 

“It took them a while,” Damen added. 

One of Nikandros’s men came in, looking slightly out of breath. Jord peered. Behind the soldier, faintly, he could see Aimeric. His face was impassive. Jord started to frown. 

“There is a horse missing from the stables, Exalteds,” the soldier said. “Our fastest riders gave chase, and eventually found the horse on the outskirts of the nearby village. We have lost the trail beyond that. We were, however, able to find this.” 

He held out a small vial for everyone in the room to see. He was holding it very gingerly in a cloth rag. The poisoner must have dropped the vial as he fled. Damen and Laurent beckoned for the guard and leaned forward to smell at the vial, but their faces betrayed only confusion. The guard next went to Nikandros who had only to give one sniff before he nodded, seemingly not surprised. When it passed to Jord, he leaned in to get a scent. He could only barely make out the odor – it was faint, and would not have been noticeable in the heavily spiced dish. But it seemed to be both sweet and foul, and it made Jord grimace. He did not know what the poison was, though. 

“You are dismissed,” Nikandros said, and the guard turned on his heel. Aimeric went to follow, but Nikandros said his name and he stopped. Aimeric did not do well at hiding his displeasure with this development. 

“It is the onorip plant,” Nikandros said. “It grows in the north.” 

“It grows in Vere too,” Aimeric added. “Every southern child knows to avoid that plant.” 

“So it is a plant that does not concern itself with old political divisions,” Laurent said, his voice betraying some impatience. “That and the fact that he was willing to abandon the horse suggests our poisoner is someone who is from this area.” 

“We have three visitors here today, all of whom might have their own agendas. We should speak to them,” Nikandros said. 

“If the plant used is native to this area, that should clear Torveld and Halvik from suspicion,” Damen said, very quickly. 

Nikandros looked unconvinced. “Anyone could have bribed someone in the village nearby. We should question them.” 

“It was not Halvik,” Laurent said. 

“It wasn’t Torveld,” Damen added. 

Nikandros turned to Aimeric. “And Gilen?” he asked. 

Aimeric merely shrugged. “It could be Gilen,” he said. 

Nikandros turned back to the kings with a long sigh. “Am I just supposed to accept your words as the truth of the matter? We should talk to all three of the guests. Whoever this would-be poisoner is, they might strike again. They might strike at your wedding.” 

“I am confident in my assessment,” Laurent said. 

It did not appear to be the right thing to say. 

“Tell me, were you also confident that the Regent did not plan to have your father murdered?” Nikandros asked. “Or, Damen, are you as confident as you were that Kastor was not plotting treachery behind your back?” He shook his head in frustration. 

“Delaying the Patran or Vaskian delegation without cause could undermine the peace our three kingdoms have sacrificed much to obtain,” Laurent’s voice was sharp. 

“A poisoning attempt undermines all peace agreements,” Nikandros countered. 

“You are as stubborn as ever, Nikandros,” Damen said with a laugh, and Jord could not tell if it were more frustrated or amused. “Go, talk to them, if it will put your mind at ease. But be slightly less accusatory than you have been with us today, unless you are so eager to fight another war.”

“I will speak with them both tomorrow,” Nikandros said. “If nothing is amiss, their delegations will leave as scheduled.” Jord had the sense that they were being dismissed, so he turned to leave. Aimeric had turned to leave too, but stopped when Nikandros called out his name. “I will speak with you later about your brother.” 

Aimeric had gone pale but he nodded. 

 

***** 

 

Nikandros met with Halvik early in the morning. 

“Are you aware of what happened at the feast yesterday?” he asked, as he took a seat in her chambers. Vaskian style, she was reclining on some furs. She looked puzzled at his question. 

“No,” she said. “There seemed to be some disturbance, but it was minor. Otherwise, the feast went well. You should congratulate yourself on that.” 

Nikandros let out a huff that even he didn’t know if it was exasperated or amused. “I am afraid,” he said, “that there was an attempt to poison the dishes.” 

Halvik’s brow pursed. “Who was the intended victim?” 

On a sudden impulse, Nikandros said, “King Damianos.” 

While Nikandros was not sure what reaction he had been expecting, he did not like how the worry seemed to leave Halvik’s face at his words. “Well,” she said, with a huff, “I am to meet with him later today, so I can only assume that he survived.” 

“Are you glad to know it wasn’t your dish that was poisoned?” Nikandros asked, his tone a bit too sharp. He was glad Damen and Laurent weren’t hear to hear him. 

But Halvik did not seem to mind – she actually laughed. “Poison is a coward’s weapon,” she said, “I trust my enemies to fight me honestly, out in the open. No, Nikandros, it was not myself that I was relieved for. I was more concerned that the poison had been meant for Prince Torveld.” 

“Torveld,” he echoed. 

“Torveld was the one to broker a peace treaty between the Empire and Patras. Some of my kingdom’s southern raiders support that treaty, but not all do. With all that is unfolding, the stability of the southern border is of upmost concern to the Empress. An attempt on Torveld’s life would have grave repercussions for the Vaskian Empire.” 

“And what,” Nikandros began slowly, “of the Empire’s other neighbors? Akielos and Vere have united. Surely the Empress concerns herself with this too.” 

Halvik’s smile was thin. “Nikandros, the relations between Vere and the Vaskian Empire have always been good.” 

“I know,” Nikandros replied, failing to keep a sour note out of his voice. “I was the one who dealt with the raiders.” 

“And do you think it was gold alone that enabled such good relations?” She laughed. “Tell me, Nikandros, what do you know of the border between Vask and Vere?” 

Nikandros thought about it for a moment. “It’s mostly mountains,” he said finally. 

“And what is true of mountains?” Halvik pressed. When Nikandros did not say anything, she answered for him, “They are not easily moved. Vere and Akielos can unite, but even a new kingdom is unlikely to change its border with Vask. No, the southern border is what concerns the Empress. She wants peace with Patras. She needs to reign in the southern raiders. That peace treaty with Patras took twenty years to negotiate; the Empress will not see it jeopardized. Any attempt to sabotage that – by poisoning Prince Torveld, or King Damianos, or anyone. That will not sit well with her. I am glad this attempt was unsuccessful. I hope that you find the coward who did this and bring them to justice.” 

She made to stand and Nikandros did too. He thought of the certainty in Laurent’s voice as he had said that Halvik was not responsible. Of course Laurent knew Vaskian politics; no wonder he had not suspected her. 

“We will have the man responsible found and punished,” Nikandros said, “Safe travels back, and I believe I will see you at the wedding of my two kings.” 

 

****** 

 

The discussion with Torveld came only a few hours later. 

“Do you know what happened at the feast yesterday?” Nikandros asked as he took a seat in Torveld’s quarters. 

The Prince just shook his head. “No,” he said. “You vanished for some time. I spent most of the night speaking with the King Damianos.” 

“There was a poisoning attempt yesterday.” 

The look of shock on Torveld’s face seemed quite genuine. After a moment, he asked, “Whose dish?” 

“Laurent’s,” Nikandros answered. The lie came easier this time. 

“Have you caught the man responsible?” Torveld asked. A pause as Nikandros shook his head and then, “Oh, do you believe someone from Patras might have been involved?” 

Nikandros was glad that Torveld’s tone appeared to be more of polite interest than accusation. He weighted his words carefully before he responded. “At this point, we are simply keeping an open mind to all possibilities. But as for Patras – two kingdoms that used to be rivals have united at your border. That could not have escaped King Torgeir’s notice.” 

Torveld nodded. He still did not seem particularly concerned. “You are correct, of course. My brother noticed. But Nikandros,” Torveld furrowed his brow, “did Damianos not tell you what I discussed with him that night?” 

Nikandros shook his head. “You were speaking about the freeing of slaves before I left.” 

“Yes, and Damianos refused to say much on the matter when it came to his own plans.” Seeing Nikandros’s dour expression, Torveld gave a small smile, and Nikandros worried he might already have revealed too much. “No,” Torveld continued, “I asked Damianos about how he and Laurent planned to produce an heir – and whether a Patran bride or groom might be possible, once they had.” 

This was the first time that Nikandros had heard the matter discussed. He kept his expression studiedly neutral and did not reply. Torveld added, “Patras has had peace with Akielos for a long time.   
We trust that Akielos will respect the border. We merely wish to ensure it. An heir and a marriage. My brother’s line is strong and there is no shortage of possible candidates. However Damen and Laurent get an heir, a Patran match can be arranged.” 

He smiled, “I understand your suspicion, but no, Patras wants to see this project of your two kings succeed. A poisoning would just risk starting a costly war when we have worked so hard to create peace with our neighbors. No, Nikandros, I am afraid that I believe you must look within your own borders to find out who did this.” 

Nikandros gave a long sigh. No wonder Damen had been so confident in his assessment of Torveld’s innocence.

Torveld made to stand and Nikandros did the same. His limbs felt too heavy and his tongue felt too dry as he said, “I believe you are right.” 

“The best of luck to you in finding the man responsible.” 

Nikandros gave a thin smile. “And the best of luck to you on the journey home.” 

 

*****

 

Nikandros remembered months ago, when there had been a raid on one of the small villages in Delpha that dotted the border. It had been a minor skirmish, Vaskian raiders against the sentries he posted. Nikandros had only heard of the incident days after it happened; it took a long time for news to reach Marlas. While the raiders had been from Vask, everyone knew that they accepted gold from Vere. 

Everyone knew. 

He knew what each of the major Veretian fortresses on the border looked like. He knew each of their defenses. If he rode far out enough, he could comfortably observe them from a distance. 

The Vaskian Empire and Patras both had good reasons to want this allegiance to succeed. There was no enemy across the border anymore. The border had moved and suddenly their enemies were inside. 

The thought loomed large in his mind as he made to see the two Kings off. 

“From the long face Nikandros,” Damen said, a smile on his lips, “I trust that you have spoken to the two ambassadors.” 

Nikandros gave a snort. “Yes, I have. And I admit, you were correct in what you said about them. The last person to speak with is Gilen. I have asked him to extend his stay here in Ravenel, and I will speak with him later. After that –,” Nikandros sighed, and finally confessed, “I do not know. I want whoever did this to be found before your wedding. I will not rest until it is done.” 

“Trust us, Nikandros, my betrothed and I are in perfect agreement with you about solving this mystery before the wedding. And if you need any resources, you need only ask.” Laurent said. “But in terms of not resting – we hope that you will not be so busy that you neglect your other duties under our rule.” 

Nikandros did not know what he meant at first. But the sudden flash of understanding must have shown on his face, because Laurent gave a slight nod. Nikandros had nothing to say on the matter, so instead he said his farewells to Laurent and Damen and stepped back to give more room for the horses. The kings’ retinue was large and it took some time for all the men and horses to file out of the courtyard. But once it was done, there was a strange silence in the castle. 

Nikandros stayed standing there in the courtyard for too long. 

Some part of him, he could admit to himself, had wanted to focus on finding this would-be poisoner at the expense of all else; Laurent had merely reminded him that this was not possible. He still had to free his slaves. It was what the kings required. It was what the kingdom needed. He fought the urge to sigh. He just did not know how to do it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Delayed a week because I was trying to get my other fic done, but here is the next chapter!

It was late by the time that Aimeric was summoned by Nikandros to his private quarters. The kyros wanted to discuss Aimeric’s brother. Aimeric’s feet felt oddly heavy as he walked the hallway to Nikandros’s quarters. He did not look at anyone he passed. His thoughts were elsewhere. 

When Aimeric was a child, there had been a day when Gilen was supposed to watch over him as they played in the gardens by Fortaine. Aimeric had climbed a tree and fallen. He’d broken his arm. Aimeric did not remember falling. He did remember, however, how his mother had doted over him in the weeks it took his arm to heal. She had been furious at Gilen for allowing Aimeric to fall. Gilen had told her that Aimeric had jumped, not fallen. 

Years later, and Gilen was now the lord of Fortaine and Aimeric was a guard wearing Akielon clothes. But deep down, Aimeric thought, they were still the same boys who had tattled on each other to their mother. 

When Aimeric reached Nikandros’s office, Nikandros was already sitting down, looking pensive. Aimeric gave a jerky bow that Nikandros waved aside, and gestured for him to sit.

“Do you think your brother tried to poison me?” 

Akielon frankness. No wonder Jord spoke so highly of Nikandros. 

Aimeric thought about the question. He shrugged. 

“Do you think it is likely?” 

“I think Gilen would do a great many things if it could get him into power.” 

“Seems to run in the family,” Nikandros said, but there was no accusation in his voice. He instead just smiled slyly. Aimeric gave an amused snort. 

“But,” Aimeric answered, “he would balance that against the risk. The Regent was utterly discredited with the trial. There is no heir besides Laurent. If something happens to this new kingdom, Vere is not going to go back to how it was – it will simply collapse. I cannot see how what Gilen would have stood to gain with a poisoning.” 

“What about revenge?” Nikandros said, almost off-handedly. “I did reduce his income.” 

Aimeric paused to think of the brother he knew. An office could change a man, and he did not know what his brother was like as the new Lord of Fortaine. But he had known Gilen long enough to guess. He shook his head. “I doubt it. It is possible, but it would be unlike him. He would not lash out blindly. He would not take revenge for its own sake, but only for the potential for gain.” 

Nikandros did not say anything for a minute. “Do you find it hard to talk about your brother like this?” he finally asked. Aimeric’s confusion must have shown, because Nikandros clarified, “Attempted murder, treason – those are serious crimes.” 

“I know,” Aimeric said softly. The corner of his mouth twisted bitterly. Perhaps Nikandros had forgotten who he was talking to.

Nikandros just continued, “I never had a brother.” His voice took on a wistful tone. “I always wanted one. Someone to go out riding with, to go hunting with. Prince Damianos was sometimes that to me, but one’s prince cannot truly be one’s brother. One’s king, even less so.” He paused for a minute, as Aimeric wondered where he was going with this. “Hearing you speak now of your brother, though – I wonder if I was wrong, though, all those times I wished for a brother. There seems little love lost between you two.”

“It seems you had too few brothers, while I had too many,” Aimeric said with a huff. “I – I am not eager to see any of my family, that is all,” he added, lamely. Nikandros looked inquiringly, and Aimeric added, “There were things my father did – and I wonder, sometimes, how much my brothers knew.” 

Nikandros nodded as if he understood, even as Aimeric hoped that he did not. But perhaps he did. Jord might have mentioned it. The trial of Laurent and then the Regent had made much of the family’s affairs a public matter. Aimeric searched Nikandros’s gaze for pity or condescension or something similar, but saw nothing. 

“I know that you do not want to see him, but your opinion on what your brother says might prove valuable in understanding if he was involved with this plot or not. Will you speak with him?”

How many nights now had Aimeric woken up in a cold sweat thinking of the Regent, or his father, or all that he had done for them? He opened his mouth to begin to answer, but closed it abruptly. 

How many of those nights had he woken up next to Jord, who wrapped his arms around Aimeric and made him feel safe again? Jord spoke so highly of Nikandros. And Nikandros seemed, if anything, to have earned that praise from Jord. Aimeric wasn’t sure there was a higher compliment a person could earn. 

He opened his mouth again, his answer changed. “Yes, I will meet with him.”

 

***** 

 

It was early in the morning when Jord was summoned to see Nikandros. It was not so unusual for Jord to be summoned these days, but Jord had not been expecting it this morning; when the messenger had arrived, both he and Aimeric had thought it would be Aimeric that Nikandros wanted to see. 

“Let us go for a walk,” Nikandros said, once Jord had arrived. “I feel I am spending far too much time in my quarters, and not enough time in the palace.” 

By now Jord was familiar with much of Ravenel, and indeed he had walked a great deal with Nikandros, talking about troop discipline, Veretian customs, everything. Today, Jord realized where Nikandros was taking him. It was a nice courtyard, but the stairs were steep and the trees overgrown, making it little used and therefore fairly private. When they arrived, no one was there, and it was only then that Nikandros finally said his real mission. 

“I intend – or at least, I have been tasked with – freeing my slaves.” Jord did not find this particularly surprising, but Nikandros gave a long sigh. “I wanted to ask you if there were anything I should keep in mind, to avoid somehow having the Veretians up in arms at the same time that the Akielons are too.” 

“But this is an Akielon issue,” Jord pointed out. 

“These Veretians have been living in Ravenel with Akielon slaves. What affects those slaves affects the Veretians. I think,” Nikandros said, with a smile that did not express any joy, “we are now at the point where there are not just Akielon issues, or just Veretian issues. One kingdom. That’s how it works now.” 

Jord thought to himself. “The Veretian staff will want to make sure they are not being replaced by slaves, and that the slaves will not cause the wages to be lowered. Assure them of that, and I do not think there will be any trouble.” Nikandros nodded, his mouth a thin line. “Have you discussed this with Theradon?” Jord asked. 

That got another sigh from Nikandros. “No.” And then, almost as confession, “The truth is – I would rather have you leading those troops.” 

Jord could not find his words for a few minutes. “Theradon is leading the troops well,” he said with some hesitation. 

“A Veretian commander would be good to have. You know the area well. It would encourage integration.” 

“I –,” Jord said, even as he swallowed heavily. “Thank you,” he continued. He could not make the words sound like gratitude. His mouth felt suddenly oppressively dry. “I just – have my doubts.” 

Morning doves had nested in some of the branches of the trees. They cooed quietly. It was the only sound to break the silence for a few minutes. 

“But you have led men before,” Nikandros finally said. 

“I was made Captain,” Jord said. “During the march south. But the title – it was taken from me. Given to Damen, instead.” Nikandros shot him an inquiring look. Jord was quiet for a moment. “Because of the help I gave Aimeric. Before he turned on us.” 

“That was why Laurent cast you aside. Even after the loyalty you showed him.” 

Jord nodded. “I plead – I plead Aimeric’s case. Not – I didn’t want him let go or pardoned, at the time. I just wanted to keep him safe.” 

Nikandros gave him a small smile. “That seems no great crime to me.” 

Jord appreciated the words. He appreciated that Nikandros was the kind of man who would say such words. But he could not bring himself to return the smile. Instead, he just replied quietly with the truth. “Laurent disagreed.” 

Nikandros did not say anything for a minute, but Jord felt himself suddenly emboldened. “I know you are having Aimeric talk with his brother,” he said quickly. 

“Not so very long from now, yes,” Nikandros said. His eyebrows raised ever so slightly, no doubt wondering where Jord was going with this. 

Jord took a breath before he pushed on, “You never seem to call on him, like you do me. But he could serve you well, I think. He just – needs the opportunity.” 

Nikandros did not look convinced. He did not look incredulous, however, so perhaps Jord could consider that a victory. 

“I have not called on him because my impression is that he is selfish,” Nikandros said. He did not speak with any malice. Just typical Akielon frankness. Jord started to disagree – he wasn’t even sure he would really disagree in truth, but he felt that he _had_ to – but Nikandros cut him off as he continued. “I think though,” he said, and then he paused, as if he was unsure how to continue, “that there is a vision of Aimeric I can get with talking to you that is not quite what I have when I talk to him. I prefer your vision.” 

“Perhaps you’ll see it for yourself, one day,” Jord replied earnestly. 

“One day,” Nikandros said thoughtfully. He made a motion to stand. “But as for today, well – I should be returning to my quarters now. I have delayed Gilen already, I should not keep him waiting forever.” 

They walked in relative silence for most of the way, with Nikandros saying at the end, “Tell Aimeric I will see him now. And Jord,” he said, “think of what I said to you, about the Captaincy.” 

 

***** 

 

When Nikandros returned to his quarters, it was not long before Aimeric arrived, and then Nikandros summoned Gilen. Gilen did not take long to arrive. He gave a stiff bow to Nikandros as he entered the room. He gave the barest nod to Aimeric. 

In his Akielon armor, it seemed his brother had become invisible. 

Nikandros and Gilen exchanged the necessary pleasantries. Nikandros was half-distracted as he did so. He was waiting for Aimeric to say something. Aimeric only did so as Nikandros and Gilen went to sit down, saying, “Gilen.” 

His brother turned, a look of surprise on his face at a mere foot soldier using his given name. He looked Aimeric up and down, and it took a few seconds before the realization hit him. 

“Aimeric?” he asked, his tone somewhere between shock and disbelief. “What are you doing here?” Then, after Gilen had looked him over again, “What are you wearing?” 

He could not quite disguise the disgust in his voice. 

Aimeric flushed. “I have joined the service of Nikandros,” he said, shifting his weight between his feet. 

Gilen’s gaze was cold. 

“Did you not wonder where your brother had gone?” Nikandros asked. The question came out sharper than he intended. Gilen turned back to face Nikandros, and there was a cool indifference there set Nikandros’s teeth on edge. 

“My father said he left for Vere,” Gilen said. “We were told he was captured at the battle of Ravenel, but no ransom was ever demanded. My mother went to Ios to plead my brother’s case, but then no news came to Fortaine. It seemed the new Kings did not deign to give us any information.” 

Nikandros thought of the lady he had seen in the Palace. Gilen’s voice was flat as he spoke. His mother may have plead his case, but Aimeric’s brother seemed to care little for his brother. But no, that wasn’t quite true. There was an edge to Gilen’s voice, a hardness in his gaze. Gilen did not really care about his brother, but he cared that his brother seemed to have adapted Akielon ways. 

“You have pledged yourself to these new Kings,” Nikandros reminded him mildly. 

Gilen’s answer was curt. “Yes,” he said. It was as if he spoke about a nuisance, one that he did not care to be reminded of. 

Nikandros decided that Gilen was annoying, but he had to remind himself that it was not to evaluate his character that he had called the new Lord of Fortaine into his quarters. 

“Do you know why,” he continued, forcing himself to keep that same mild tone, “we asked you to extend your stay here?”

Gilen shook his head. “I had assumed you would be giving more information about the order to divide up the lands. Initial details were sparse.” 

“There was a poisoning attempt at the banquet.” 

Gilen’s eyes flashed in surprise. It seemed genuine. “Against whom?” 

Nikandros’s eyes couldn’t help but flicker to Aimeric. His expression was neutral, but his eyes were set on his brother, and he seemed to be concentrating more than usual. 

“Laurent,” Nikandros said. 

There was a strange expression on Gilen’s face for a moment, before it settled into what could only be called a very studied regret. “That would be most unfortunate,” he said. “I would not like to see Vere lose its influence in this new alliance.” 

“We are one kingdom now,” Nikandros reminded him. 

Gilen gave a quick, empty smile. “Of course,” he said, in a tone that would have been pleasant if someone else had said those words. 

“Do you know of anything that might help us find the person who did this?” 

Gilen shook his head. “I saw nothing out of the ordinary and none of my men reported anything of note.” 

Nikandros nodded his dismissal. Gilen gave him an affirming nod, stood up, and made for the exit. 

He did not look at Aimeric and Aimeric did not say anything as he left. 

“Well?” Nikandros turned to Aimeric. 

“That was clever,” Aimeric said, with a touch of respect in his voice. When Nikandros gave a small frown, he clarified, “You lied to him about who was poisoned.” 

“It seemed like it might help confuse him, if he was the culprit. He did react strangely to the news and his defense – to have Vere lose its influence. If he wants the balance of power to remain in Vere’s favor, he might not be above poisoning an Akielon. Particularly not an Akielon who has replaced a Veretian lord.” 

“It’s possible,” Aimeric conceded. He did not sound convinced. “But I think – if he _had_ poisoned you, he wouldn’t have said anything about Vere or the balance of power at all. He’d have known Laurent wasn’t the actual intended recipient. He’d have said something about how awful it was that such a thing had happened, and how lucky it was that the attack was thwarted.” 

Nikandros made a contemplative noise. Aimeric did have a point. “He leaves tomorrow. It seems I must find some other lead.” 

It normally would have been a dismissal enough – Nikandros had other business he had to attend to – but Aimeric lingered. Finally, after what seemed like some working up of courage, he said quite quickly, “Jord told me that you were considering making him a Captain.” 

Nikandros nodded. 

Aimeric gave a faint smile. Nikandros had seen Aimeric smile before, but this was perhaps the only time it seemed to actually reach his eyes. It had an almost transformative effect. “I’m glad,” he said. “He makes a good captain.” 

Aimeric left the quarters and Nikandros was left alone. He sat there, stunned, for a moment, and he spent longer than he should have thinking about this glimpse at an Aimeric he had not known before. 

 

******

 

By the time that Aimeric returned, they were in the middle of drills: it would be almost dark by the time they returned to their quarters and Jord was finally alone with Aimeric. 

“How did the interview with your brother go?” he asked. 

Aimeric was undoing one of the buckles holding on his armor. “I,” he started to say. By now the armor should have been familiar, but fatigue seemed to be making him clumsy. He struggled to undo the buckle, and Jord had to help. “I –,” Aimeric started again, before concluding flatly, “It was what not what I expected.” 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Jord asked. From the tone of Aimeric’s voice he could not tell. 

“I don’t know,” Aimeric said, his smile coy. “Gilen –,” he started, and then the rest of the words came out all at once, “he didn’t even recognize me.” 

Jord frowned at that. “How could your own brother not recognize you?” he asked. 

Aimeric slipped off the rest of his Akielon armor quietly. He kept his back turned to Jord. “I always wondered,” he said, half to himself, “how much my brothers knew. About my father and all his schemes. When I went to Vere, I thought they did not know about my father’s plans for me, and felt superior for it. But recently, I’d been thinking – when the Regent came to Fortaine. Would it be better if they didn’t know about that? How could they not have known?” He leaned down, shook his head. He still would not look at Jord. He was quiet for a long moment. Jord put his hand on Aimeric’s shoulder, not sure what – if anything – he could say. 

Aimeric finally did turn around, a half smile on his face. “I guess I never thought that maybe my brother just didn’t care. That’s the worst option of all, right?” Jord was about to say something, but Aimeric cut him off. “I think though – that knowing my past has left me behind makes it easier for me to leave my past behind.” 

Aimeric leaned forward to give him a quick kiss. When he broke away, he was smiling, and for a moment Jord wasn’t sure if he was happy or sad. But when Aimeric continued, “But as for the future – Nikandros better make you a captain, if he has any sense.”

Jord snorted. “I don’t know about that,” he said. 

“You served Laurent well,” Aimeric said. 

“Laurent would disagree.” 

Aimeric did not seem persuaded. “Because you were too kind to a traitor. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they stay away from you from now on.” 

“If you know of any, make sure to let Nikandros know.” 

“Of course I’ll let Nikandros know,” Aimeric said, breezily. There was something coy in his smile now. “Should I also let him know that you fancy him?” 

“Aimeric!” Jord said sharply. 

“What?” Aimeric asked, all feigned innocence. “I know you do.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“He’s always pulling you aside to talk with you. He goes to you before his own captain. He relies on you. And he’s – straightforward. Like you. In a way that I doubt I’ll ever be.” 

There was a rueful note to Aimeric’s voice as he spoke, though he did his best to hide it. 

Jord had not thought about how he felt about Nikandros all that much. It was only looking back did he notice the lightness he felt in his chest when Nikandros summoned him. How good and uncomplicated it felt when they walked together and talked. “Does it bother you?” he finally asked. “I’m not – replacing you or anything. I still love you, Aimeric.” 

He leaned down to kiss Aimeric again. Aimeric melted easily into the kiss, draping his arms around Jord’s neck. 

“I know that,” Aimeric said at last. His voice was soft. “And no, I don’t mind. I think it’s a good thing.” 

There was something strange in his voice. “Aimeric,” Jord began, with growing suspicion. “Do you have feelings for him too?” 

Aimeric just laughed. “I think he just sees me as a nuisance,” he said, a half-smile again on his lips. 

It was only the next morning that Jord realized Aimeric had not actually answered his question.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after many months of hiatus, this fic is back to being updated! i am so sorry for the delay. life has a way of derailing plans. i hope to post the next chapter soon, however. for anyone who has stuck around since this fic was first posted -- thank you!

Nikandros did not sleep well that night. He woke too early. It was still dark: the sun would not rise for another hour or so. All his household was still sleeping. And yet sleep would not come for him.

He wanted to blame the mystery of the poisoning for his restlessness. And the question of who had wanted him dead was gnawing at him – details of that night and the words of the guests he had interviewed kept twisting and turning in his mind. What had he missed?

But as he took a moment to survey the beginning of a sunrise, he had no choice but to be honest with himself: there was a pit of dread in his stomach that had nothing to do with the attempt on his life at the banquet. As a kyros, he had a duty to his King. (His Kings, now.) To make their vision come true. No matter the cost. No matter how difficult it sometimes seemed to look at this new kingdom and see what they saw. 

When the sun had finally risen over the horizon, Nikandros gathered his household together. They watched him with bowed heads and averted eyes.

“As of this morning, you are now all considered free citizens,” he began. “The blacksmith will rid you of your collar and cuffs. If you decide to leave, you will be given coin equal to the services you have rendered. If you decide to stay, you will be welcomed as a servant and given wages.” 

How many times had he weighed and debated these words. Rehearsed them. 

In all of his rehearsals, there had been only one thing he could never quite figure out -- what reaction he expected from his slaves. 

A dozen faces stared back at him. Confusion played across most of the faces, in various forms and to various degrees. A long silence dragged on brutally. 

“I will be informing my men and the rest of the castle soon,” he finally added. “I wanted to let you know beforehand, because --”

The words would not come to him.

_Because I am sure my men will respond poorly, and I wanted to tell you before you witnessed that._

_Because the Veretians will react with suspicion, and I do not want you to witness that the first time you hear of your new fate?_

_Because my Kings have asked me to do the impossible, and because they are my Kings I will try to see it done?_

Nikandros cleared his throat. “Because the world is changing for all of us, but none more so than you. I wanted to make sure that you had time to think about what it is that you want. We all have to find our place in the world.”

Even a kyros in a foreign castle in a brand new kingdom.

More silence. But then to his surprise, some of the slaves began to mutter amongst themselves. They even turned towards each other, facing away from Nikandros. It was a breach in protocol. A slave would never conduct himself that way. But none of them were slaves anymore. This was the beginning. 

Nikandros took his leave with a smile. He knew the next audience he faced would not receive this news so well. But he would listen to their anger and address their concerns.

This was the task he had been given, and Nikandros would see it done.

 

 ******

 

Nikandros gathered the rest of the castle in the banquet hall. It was the largest room available. The foremost tables were mostly taken up by his own men. Servants stood or sat behind them, whispering furiously amongst themselves. Nikandros noticed that in the wings of the hall stood several slaves – former slaves, now. No doubt it would be a few days before he could get an accurate tally of who had stayed and who had left. But at least some, it seemed, had stayed. Nikandros was surprised at how reassuring he found this. Perhaps this process would not be as painful as he had imagined.

“I have released my household this morning,” he started. “All of the former slaves have received the same offer -- to go with payment or stay on and be employed as a servant.” At a sudden chorus of distinctly Veretian mutterings, he added, “No servant will see their wages reduced or their employment ended.” He had been speaking in Akielon; for good measure, he repeated that last part in Veretian.

“Will you be taking any more slaves?” A soldier asked.

Nikandros shook his head.

“So no more slaves in Ravenel today.” A young man near the front Nikandros believed to be named Lysander spoke suddenly, his expression indignant. “How much longer until there are no slaves in all the kingdom?”

Theradon made an immediate noise to shush the soldier, but the words had already done their damage.

“I am not either of the Kings,” Nikandros replied lightly. “I have only made a decision about my own household. The question of the kingdom will be decided by the will of the Kings. But no decree has gone out.”

That quieted some of the muttering. Nikandros took a moment to look over the crowd. Many of the servants still regarded him with suspicion, and his own soldiers looked uneasy.

There were two smiles that caught his eye. The first belonged to Jord, who was sitting closer to the back. And the second -- fainter perhaps, but still there -- belonged to Aimeric, who sat next to him. 

Nikandros tried not to look at them too long, but seeing their expressions had caused a lightness in his chest that lasted long after he left the hall.

 

 ******

 

There were a great many people who wanted to talk to Nikandros after the announcement in the morning. The first was a Veretian chef who thought one of the former slaves would not accept wages and was trying to have her thrown out of the kitchen; Nikandros had to explain that this would not be allowed. Theradon also wanted to talk, this time in private. He said his family owned slaves and wondered whether they were soon to be out a great deal of money.

“As I said this morning,” Nikandros replied, “My decision applies to my own household only. There has been no royal decree one way or another.”

Theradon did not look reassured by the answer, although he held his tongue more than the soldier from this morning did. When he was gone, Nikandros rubbed his temple. He had not lied to Theradon, not exactly, but what he had said was closer to a lie than Nikandros was comfortable with. 

The questions continued well into the afternoon, and Nikandros did not doubt that tomorrow would be more of the same. Perhaps the day after, if Nikandros was unlucky. If he was very unlucky – well, he didn’t want to think about that. Even the thought made him tired. He needed a break. When there was a pause in solicitors, he snuck out into the Castle gardens, on a path he thought would not be too busy. 

For the first few minutes of the walk, he was successful; there was no one around to bother him and he could enjoy the sites of the garden without anyone begging him to mediate their disputes. But as he neared one of the back entrances to the gardens, he heard voices and he paused. There were steps not far from him. Some people must have decided to seek out these secluded steps for some privacy of their own. The voices were faint and the side of the stairs blocked his view, but if Nikandros listened hard enough, he could make out a woman talking. 

“I was Veretian before –,” the woman said. “But I’ve forgotten all about being Veretian. I was taken when I was a young girl.”

Nikandros recognized the voice. Philomena. One of his favorite slaves. He had tried to share her with Damen, before he had learned about the King’s changed ways. She was a free woman now. And it seemed that Nikandros had stumbled onto her discussing this freedom with someone else. 

“It’s one kingdom now. You’ll be Veretian and Akielon now. We all will be.”

Nikandros had to bite down a note of surprise. Philomena was talking to Aimeric.

She did not seemed reassured by his words. “I do not know if I will have a place in this new kingdom,” Nikandros heard her say. “I don’t remember my life before I was a slave, not really. And now I can’t be a slave any longer.”

“We’re all going to have to change,” Aimeric responded, not unkindly.

“I –,” Philomena began. “I loved Nikandros.” The words came out quickly. She added, after a second, “Or at least, I thought I did. A slave is supposed to love their master. And now I am not so sure.”

Aimeric was quiet for so long that Nikandros half-wondered if he had left or gone back inside the fortress. But finally he said, “I think it is easier to fall in love with the wrong person than to fall out of love with them. But it is worth it.”

“Did you fall in love with the wrong person?”

“Yes,” Aimeric’s reply was soft. “But I’m not in love with them anymore, and my life is the better for it.”

The noise that Philomena made did not sound convinced. “I – I will try to believe that. And I will try to believe I can do the same,” she said. “Thank you.”

There was the sound of footsteps. Nikandros thought she had probably left. He waited a few minutes longer and then walked in front of the stairs. Aimeric was still sitting on the steps, although he scrambled to his feet when he saw Nikandros.

“Please, sit back down,” Nikandros said. “Can I join you?”

The tips of Aimeric’s cheeks had gone scarlet, but he nodded.

“I did not realize you were nearby,” he said, his tone cautious.

“I went for a walk. Tried to stay away from the crowds. But I couldn’t help but overhear you talking to Philomena.” Nikandros thought for a moment. “Would you have said anything different if you had known I was here?”

“I suppose not,” Aimeric said after a moment of consideration. It sounded like a confession.

“That was kind, what you said to her.”

Nikandros did not add: it was not a kindness that I had expected from you.

“Maybe,” Aimeric’s expression looked almost guilty, as if he would have preferred Nikandros not to know that he had given Philomena reassurances. “She wanted to speak to a Veretian, but her Akielon was better than her Veretian, so I volunteered.” After a second, he added, “I’m sure Jord would have said something even nicer to her.”

“Jord always has nice things to say about you.”

Aimeric let out a huff of amusement. “His mistake.”

“You know, I used to believe that,” Nikandros said, and he could see how the words made the corner of Aimeric’s lips curl up. “But I think I am starting to understand why he says the things he does.” He could not help but stare at Aimeric as if seeing him for the first time. The mouth that he had always found petulant was delicate and fine. The eyes that had always looked ready for a fight were staring at Nikandros and he could see some of the uncertainty that lurked behind their usual fire.

“Jord’s a lucky man,” he muttered, half to himself.

Aimeric looked confused for half a moment, and then as he realized what Nikandros meant his smile turned mischievous. “You know that he wants you.”

Nikandros was surprised to hear Aimeric say the words, but if he was being honest he had known the truth of them for a while. There had always been a reason that Nikandros had never quite believed it, though, and he was sitting right in front of him. It was a relief to note that Aimeric’s tone had been playful instead of jealous. 

Nikandros took a moment and leaned back against the steps. He tried to match the playful tone of Aimeric’s voice, but it came out too husky instead. “And what about you, Aimeric?”

Aimeric was quiet for a moment, and then quite to Nikandros’s surprise he leaned forward and kissed him.

It suddenly struck Nikandros that he had never been kissed before. Of course he had kissed a fair share of people, men and women alike. But they had all been slaves or commoners. They had all been too timid and submissive to kiss Nikandros, and had been kissed instead. But there was nothing timid or submissive about how Aimeric was kissing him now, and Nikandros found himself thinking that this was something he could get used to.

There was just one element missing, and when Aimeric broke away Nikandros made sure to mention it. “I think Jord should be here.”

Aimeric's eyes lit up. “I agree. Should I go get him?”

“And then meet me in my chambers,” Nikandros agreed.

 

 ******

 

Nikandros retired to his own chambers and told his guards and household that he should not be disturbed for the rest of the night. A few minutes after everyone had left, Aimeric walked in with Jord following only a few footsteps behind. 

“I told him,” Aimeric gave a small toss of his head towards Jord, “that Nikandros wanted us both in his quarters. He asked if it was an emergency, and I had to say that wasn’t quite what we meant.”

Jord let out an amused huff. “Yes, and then I made you repeat your story twice before I believed you.” 

“It feels like an emergency,” Nikandros said. He moved to pull Jord in closer. “An emergency of waiting.” Jord had already tilted his head in expectation of the kiss. Their mouths met and Nikandros took a moment to savor what he had been so long hoping for -- the taste of Jord in his mouth, the clash of their tongues together, the soft burn of the other man’s stubble against his chin. 

It felt so good and right to kiss Jord after so much waiting that Nikandros almost lost himself in the kiss -- but he wasn’t so distracted that he didn’t hear the faint, pleasantly surprised “oh” sound that Aimeric made. After a minute, Aimeric added, with an utterly unsurprising petulance, “I don’t intend to be left out so easily.” 

Jord broke away to kiss Aimeric before Nikandros could respond, but Nikandros was not going to be so easily thwarted: he took a step forward and bent down to kiss at the nape of Aimeric’s neck. Aimeric made a small gasping noise of pleasure at both of their ministrations, and then a louder noise as Jord’s hands got bolder in their explorations. 

It must be a familiar motion to Jord, Nikandros found himself thinking idly. He would know where Aimeric liked to be touched, where he was sensitive, what would make him scream. And the reverse was true too: Aimeric would know all about what Jord liked and what he didn’t. But all of it was new for Nikandros. 

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Nikandros intended to make the most of it. 

He reached one hand down to feel under the hem of Aimeric’s skirt. Jord’s hands were already there, stroking up and down Aimeric’s cock. Nikandros’s hands joined them with a gentle massage of Aimeric’s balls. Nikandros was rewarded for his efforts when Aimeric gave a half-strangled cry and leaned back against Nikandros’s chest. 

The younger Veretian was cursing softly in his native tongue -- some of the words Nikandros didn’t even know, and he had thought himself fluent -- and he clenched and unclenched his fist against Jord’s arm. Nikandros ground his hips against the back of Aimeric’s skirt to relieve some of the pressure that was building in his groin. Aimeric jerked forward with a soft moan on his lips as he came, before he collapsed bonelessly against Nikandros’s chest. 

“See?” Nikandros asked him, even as he massaged the younger man’s neck with one hand, “You weren’t left out.” 

Aimeric gave a small laugh even as he stared up at Nikandros’s through half-hooded eyes. “I want to suck your cock,” he said. He pushed himself with some effort off Nikandros’s chest and then bent a knee less than gracefully as he started to kneel on the floor before Nikandros and Jord. “Both your cocks,” he added. 

Nikandros raised an eyebrow at Jord, who gave a small shrug in response. Aimeric had moved aside the curls that had fallen in front of his face, and his gaze was mischievous. They both nodded at him, and he moved his hands up underneath their skirts and around their skirts. He wasted no time in starting to pump them both. The motions were rougher than what Nikandros was used to, but his already half-hard cock was grateful for the attention. And it took a distinct interest when Aimeric put the head into his mouth and swirled his tongue. But then a moment longer and the wetness of his mouth was gone -- he had moved on to sucking Jord’s cock. 

Jord was standing so close to him. Nikandros could feel the heat radiating off his body and the moans he made as Aimeric sucked him off were right against Nikandros’s ear. He leaned forward and went to kiss the other man. He could feel Aimeric’s mouth engulf his cock and his tongue start to trail up his shaft. He lost himself in the hot heat of Jord’s mouth and the pleasure that Aimeric was giving him. 

Nikandros could feel his own release building. But it was Jord who pulled away first, breaking away from the kiss and Aimeric to come onto the floor. Nikandros felt a hot heat in his belly watching Jord come, and he came not longer, with Aimeric’s mouth still on his cock. 

Nikandros was used to slaves who swallowed obediently and wiped their faces with open adulation at him. Aimeric spit on the ground with a sour expression on his face, although when he looked up there was a hungry look in his eyes. 

“I want you inside me,” he said. 

“You’re demanding,” Nikandros said, eager to oblige. 

“Both of us?” Jord asked. Concern colored his voice. It was a moment where Nikandros found himself wishing Jord looked after Aimeric a little less. 

“There could be someone in the middle,” Nikandros suggested. 

Aimeric gave an impatient toss of his head. “I just want to get fucked. One or both of you is fine.” 

Nikandros turned to Jord with a sly smile on his face. “I think that can be arranged.” 

Nikandros helped Aimeric stand up and guided him to the bed. He would need a few minutes to recover, but that did not seem like it would be a problem for the younger man. Nikandros helped Aimeric out of his armor and moved to take off his own. Once they were both fully nude, Nikandros started to stroke Aimeric’s cock slowly. Aimeric responded by raising his hips in time with the movements and a needy little whine escaped his throat. Jord watched the two of them for a long moment. “Aren’t you going to join us?” Aimeric asked, his voice raspy after a particularly well-timed flick of Nikandros’s hand. 

That was all the invitation Jord seemed to need; he took the seat next to Nikandros and Aimeric and started to disrobe himself. The bed heaved a little in complaint. It had been a while since Nikandros had had three people in his bed. If Jord or Aimeric noticed, they said nothing. Jord seemed too intent on kissing up and down Aimeric’s neck. 

“Should I be in the middle or you?” 

Jord’s eyes flickered uncertainly. “You’re a kyros,” he began, as if that was an answer. 

“I thought in Vere you gave less weight to titles like that in bed.” Nikandros leaned down to lay a kiss on Aimeric’s neck that, when timed with another stroke of the younger man’s cock, produced a delicious moan. “I think that’s something Akielons could learn from. I’ll be in the middle then.” 

“If you’re sure,” Jord said, and moved to position himself behind Nikandros. There was a cannister of oil not too far from the bed, and Nikandros stopped his ministrations to retrieve it. When he came back with the oil, he took his time preparing Aimeric, pushing one and then two and then three fingers into him until he was squirming. Nikandros didn’t have to look at Jord to know the effect the show was having on the other man; when it came time for him to take the oil from Nikandros, he fumbled the container and almost dropped it. 

Jord was equally slow when it came to preparing him. The oil felt cool against his ass, and when Jord pushed in his first finger Nikandros felt his muscles twitch at the intrusion. He had never done this before. When Jord hooked his finger in just the right way, however, he found himself wondering why he had waited so long.

“Are you alright?” Jord asked. 

“Keep going,” Nikandros muttered impatiently. He felt a twinge of sympathy for Aimeric after what he had just put him through. 

It felt like an eternity before Jord finally got his cock inside him. It took a moment for Nikandros to get used to the weight and the feel of being entered, but then he squared his hips and thrust into Aimeric. Aimeric whined and grasped the sheets of the bed. Nikandros balanced himself on the bed, trying to find a rhythm between thrusting into Aimeric and Jord thrusting into him. 

They were a hot sweaty knot of bodies but it felt so good that Nikandros thought that when he closed his eyes he could see stars under his eyelids. Jord came with Nikandros’s name on his lips, and the feel of his cock softening as he finished just made Nikandros’s thrusts even more frenzied. He could feel how Aimeric tensed and squirmed underneath him and he climaxed with a shout. He made sure to keep stroking at Aimeric’s cock until the younger man found his release, ropes of come staining the sheets and his belly. 

When they were all sated, Nikandros leaned against the covers of the bed and surveyed the scene: armor discarded throughout the room, the sheets tangled and stained, and two exhausted Veretians beside him. “I’ll have to draw up a bath,” he finally said, when his mind felt like it had returned to his body. “Everything else, we’ll wait until morning.”


	7. Chapter 7

It was such a nice feeling for Aimeric to be lying in bed with two pairs of arms around him. Jord was the steady, familiar weight to his left. And Nikandros had wrapped an arm possessively around his waist to his right. 

Aimeric wished he could just focus on the weight and the presence of these two men. But he'd been sleeping uneasily for months now, and the nightmares had followed him even into the sanctity of Nikandros’s quarters.

Aimeric leaned back against the bed. It was very dark now and he knew he should be asleep. But his heart was still racing. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He tried to slow down his breathing so it didn't feel like he was desperately gasping for air.

Nikandros stirred. Aimeric tried to lie perfectly still. Jord was a heavy sleeper; by now Aimeric knew about how much noise he could make before Jord would wake up. Evidently Nikandros was a lighter sleeper. “Aimeric,” Nikandros muttered, his breath warm against Aimeric’s neck. “Is everything all right?”

“I’m fine,” Aimeric whispered back. “It was nothing.”

There was a strain he was not able to keep out of his voice. Nikandros stirred further and made to sit up in the bed. “It does not sound like nothing,” he said, running one hand lightly through Aimeric’s curls.

Aimeric couldn’t help but close his eyes against the touch. But then he felt Jord shift too, and he recoiled a little. Nikandros put his hand on his shoulder: a solid, reassuring touch. Still Aimeric felt his cheeks burning. He had tried very hard to hide from Jord the fact that even after all these weeks he still found it difficult to sleep through the night. 

“Is something wrong?” Jord asked, sleep slurring his words.

“Jord, you’re tired, go back to sleep,” Aimeric replied. But he felt Jord shift, and he knew that the other man was not listening to him. His attention was turned to the door, and he seemed suddenly more alert.

“I hear steel,” he muttered half to himself, and he was already pushing himself up and out of the bed. “Coming from just outside the door.” Nikandros had followed him out of the bed quickly but quietly.

Aimeric heard the noise then too. A familiar hiss of steel. Someone outside was drawing their sword from its scabbard. Aimeric scrambled to find the armor he had discarded last night.

When the door opened, Aimeric had to blink back confusion: these were Akielon soldiers. Five in total. Even more, he recognized them. All of them were Nikandros’s men. And leading them was their Captain, Theradon.

Aimeric half-hoped there had been a mistake, that they had come because they believed their kyori was in danger. But he could tell from their cold gazes and set expressions that there had been no mistake.

They had not come here to protect Nikandros. They had come here to kill him, while they believed he slept alone and unguarded.

“Theradon,” Nikandros said in an even tone. “One failed assassination attempt wasn't enough for you?”

Theradon and his men would almost certainly have been hoping for an easy fight, or to avoid a fight altogether. Jord and Nikandros had picked up their weapons from the floor. Aimeric palmed the hilt of his own sword. Three against five. With Jord and Nikandros on his side, Aimeric found he actually liked his odds.

Theradon did not reply, but gave a faint nod to his men and they moved forward. 

The fighting was brief but chaotic. Aimeric exchanged a few blows with one man before a hit to the back of the head with the broad side of a sword from Jord felled him. Another man tried to lunge at him, but he dropped his blade when Aimeric ran his own blade through his shoulder.

And then it was over, and four of the men were on the ground. Only Theradon was left standing, but he had lost his sword. As Aimeric watched, Nikandros threw Theradon against the wall, his hand crushing his neck.

“I know you tried to poison me. You must have hired someone to sneak into the kitchens.” Disgust filled his voice as Nikandros realized, “You probably even let them into the castle. That's why when Aimeric tried to warn you, you did nothing. You invented a rumor about him trying to sabotage the feast to explain your inaction later.”

Theradon gave a huff. “You were so willing to believe it. It was easy.”

“The only thing I haven't figured out yet,” Nikandros continued, pushing harder against Theradon’s throat for good measure, “is why me.”

“Why?” Theradon echoed. There was a disbelief in his voice, as if he could not believe that Nikandros did not know why he had betrayed him and tried to murder him. “You have destroyed Delpha by letting the Veretians in. Our King is planning on selling Akielos to Vere piece by piece -- and you have always been at his side, helping him every step along the way. I couldn’t stand it. A better councillor might have steered the King right. Would have gotten him from out of the thralls of his Veretian whore -- but it seems like you two of your own to attend to.” 

Aimeric could see how Theradon’s eyes travelled over to Jord, who was methodically cleaning blood from his sword, and then over to him. He tried to look steadier on his feet than he felt. 

Nikandros made a contemplative noise. “You are wrong, Theradon. We are no longer divided as Akielons and Veretians. There is no room in this new kingdom for that kind of thinking anymore.” He gave his former commander another shove against the wall for good measure. “Call for the rest of my men,” he gestured towards Jord. “These men will go on trial tomorrow. Lock them up for tonight.” 

 

****** 

 

They posted guards for Theradon and his men that night. Nikandros hand-selected those that he believed to be the most loyal. But Jord was glad he did not choose Aimeric, who had gone noticeably pale when he saw that Theradon would be staying in the same cell in which he had been kept for so long. 

The sun had just started to rise over the horizon when Nikandros pulled Jord and Aimeric aside. “With Theradon gone, the men will need a new captain.” He kept his eyes fixed on Jord as he spoke. It took Jord a minute for the meaning of the words to sink in.

“It cannot be me,” he stuttered. “I still – I am Veretian, they will not follow a Veretian.”

“The two kingdoms are supposed to be one. And no one is more qualified to lead than you, Jord,” Aimeric said quickly. Although he was still looking paler than normal, his lips quirked up as he talked and his eyes had regained something of their usual spark. Jord had always found it hard to say no to that expression. He understood why Nikandros had decided to pull Aimeric aside too.

“What will the men think, knowing that you were in bed with your Captain the night you were attacked?” Jord protested. He had a sense this was not going to be an argument he could win, not with Nikandros and Aimeric united in their decision.

“I thought that was just how things were done in Vere. So let it be done that way in the new kingdon,” Nikandros laughed. “Go, direct the men. They need to know who their captain is.”

Jord gave a curt nod. “But first – Aimeric,” he started, looking in concern at the younger man, “are you sure that you're alright?”

Nikandros turned to look at Aimeric as well, who flushed from the attention. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “I just – I’m glad I was on your side this time. The right side.”

“You took an oath when you first came in to my service,” Nikandros said. “And you have fulfilled it.”

 

****** 

 

The trial was done within the week and Theradon and his men executed. There had been no plots against Nikandros’s life since. Jord led the men well. There was peace in the new kingdom, and Nikandros felt confident once again in his role as the shield that protected the kingdom.

And if he did it with two Veretians in his bed, well – it was one kingdom now.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that you liked the first chapter and keep reading! As always, if you want to scream about Aimeric, Jord, and/or Nikandros headcanons or anything, [my ask box is always open on tumblr](http://desastrista.tumblr.com/ask)


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